Hips
by cotederpablo
Summary: Tony DiNozzo is a 25 year old homicide detective in Baltimore. Ziva David is the girl dancing at his best friend's bachelor party. There's a spark. He becomes intrigued. It ends up in something neither of them expected. "When I dance for people, my hips tell them a story. But they only hear the parts that they want to. That is no fault of mine." Tony/Ziva AU. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so in this story, Tony's a homicide detective in current-day Baltimore. Tim McGee works there with him in the IT department. Tony is twenty-five, McGee is the same age. Ziva is twenty-one. Danny, Tony's partner, is not a dirty cop, just a supporting player, really. As far as canon goes for Tony, everything up to joining Baltimore PD before meeting Wendy (or, re-meeting her, really) is still applicable. Ziva, not so much. More on that later.**

Tony DiNozzo laughed, slapping his friend on the back. "It's okay, Tim, you'll always be the guy who plays Minecraft on Saturdays to us, buddy. Still, can't believe lil' Timmy McGee's getting married."

"I'm the same age as you, Tony," McGee said, biting back a laugh.

"Can't believe he's getting married before one of us," said one of the guys across the room, Danny.

Tim rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. The guys may be teasing him the way they always did, but he was (mostly) sure that it came from a place of affection. Besides, they had a point: he was the first to get married, and to a beautiful, amazing woman, too.

Tony sipped his beer and let the cool, bitter liquid run down his throat, which was a little sore. In a bunch of guys drinking, being heard was tricky, to say the least. Yelling was basically the only way to get any words out. He looked around at the gang that had assembled to spend Tim's "last night of freedom" with him. There was Tim's friend from college – his old roommate – and a bunch of guys from the Baltimore PD. Danny, Tony's partner. Jimmy, one of Tim's gaming buddies, he had said. Though, he hadn't said much else.

There were eight or nine guys in total, sitting on everything from fold out chairs to bar stools to beanbags – whatever the 'planning committee' (that would be Tony and Danny) could find around Tony's little apartment, the destination of the party. Each man had a beer in his hand. Most of them had cigars too, except Tim and Tony. The whole apartment was kinda hazy by this point.

Tim had been forced into a party hat, which he found extremely demeaning. They'd all been to watch a basketball game and then hung around until after all the players and spectators were gone and had a few games themselves. Tony had showed off the most, of course. Lay-ups and three-pointers all over the place. Enough to work up a serious sweat. He'd played for Ohio State, after all. He would've gone pro, too, if it hadn't been for that kid and his sister...

Tony tuned himself back in to the conversation – one of the other guys talking about a case. There had apparently been a punch line at some point but Tony didn't get it, so he just smiled fakely and waited for someone else to start talking. They always did. There was always a girl to ogle or a crazy con to remember or a sport to talk about. The thing about these guys was that, even though conversation was shallow, it was existent. Safe.

Danny looked over at him with suspicion. He'd been tuning in and out of things a lot lately. They were good friends, so naturally they had awkwardly ignored the problem for a while and then once it started bugging Danny so much that he couldn't take it anymore he brought it up with Tony. Tony just mumbled something about him getting a little bored with "stuff". Danny started to think that maybe Tony needed a companion with a mind a little more complex and, well, perhaps female reproductive parts wouldn't hurt either. After all, Tony's two favourite things in the world were females and challenges. But Danny was a simple, down-to-earth guy. He couldn't provide complexity, and he especially couldn't provide any feminine needs that Tony had. Whatever, the guy was lonely. And yeah, that was sad, but what Danny could do as a friend was pretty limited. Between the two of them, Tony pretty much had a monopoly on the pretty girls.

"So when's the stripper getting here?" Danny called out, interrupting someone. That ought to distract DiNozzo for a while. The intellectual in him was often drowned out by the natural part of him that just really wouldn't mind seeing an attractive woman entice him to loud music.

Poor Jimmy looked like he would wet his pants at such a thing – the guy had a girlfriend, a bombshell, apparently. Though Tony hardly saw how that was possible.

"I thought you organised that one, Danny Boy," Tony replied, frowning. He felt butterflies for a moment. Had they overlooked a crucial aspect of the party that they had so intricately planned? Tony had a reputation to uphold. A bachelor party without this was like a cake without icing...deceiving, really.

"Don't worry, I did," Danny said with a wink, though it was hard to be sly when yelling over the loud 70s rock ballads playing over Tony's stereo. His phone went off, and he reached into his pocket and stared at the screen with a green. "Three...two...one..."

The door burst open as a new song started – _Rock You Like a Hurricane _by the Scorpions. The room was dark and smoky but honestly, that just added to the effect. One long, shapely leg hooked around the door frame, covered up to the knee by very pointy black boots. The girl to whom the leg belonged gave a kick and then boldly stepped through the door and the entire party gave a 'whoop', even Jimmy.

She was dressed as a sexy police officer, appropriately enough. This was hardly an accident, and Tony couldn't help thinking that it was a nice touch before he saw her face and all coherent thoughts flew out of his head.

Beneath a black police cap was a wild mane of dark chocolate curls that contrasted perfectly with her skin. She had big brown eyes and prominent cheekbones and a dark smile across her face. The rest of her outfit was leather, showing off her midriff, tight-fitting. Her stomach was toned rather than flat. Her tiny little shorts covered her ass but really not much else, not that any complaint would be heart from anyone. She was small but had long legs and perfect honey skin and a glint in her eyes that, Tony remarked, he had never quite seen before.

Her straight, white teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she examined each member of the party before singling out Timmy. She had been trying to figure out which one was the lucky man. Once she did, the look on her face changed. She had a mission to complete, and she would complete it. Even a stranger could not doubt her on that.

She flounced past the men to Tim's right offering each a brush or the ghost of a touch, enough to entice them. They would get their turns later. Tony watched her. He was furthest left. Oh, she was good.

Tim was in the middle and she reached around from behind and pulled open his jacket and stroked his chest. His entire body stiffened. She leaned closer to whisper in his ear:

"What's the matter?"

If possible, he felt even tenser. And embarrassed. "Look, I...I don't know how comfortable I am with this," Tim murmured. It was lucky she was close or she never would have heard over the music. He felt a little ridiculous for his embarrassment, considering cold feet was probably a common occurrence for her. Or maybe it was just him. Whatever. For some reason, he didn't want to insult her. "Give the other guys a show, though. They're way into it."

"You got it, Groom," she whispered coolly and danced back towards the centre of the room, popping just one tiny button on her skimpy top, earning another round of cheers. She began giving each man special attention from the front, dancing in their laps, whatever she had been paid to do. She got to Tony last. He sat back, his fingers clenching into fists as she hovered over his lap. She circled her hips a few times and he bit back a groan. And all the while he couldn't help thinking she was far too beautiful to be doing this for a living.

But again, those thoughts were silence by the music and the smoke and the alcohol and the sheer surreal feeling of her hips almost grinding against his. He lifted his hands so she could get closer, and for a moment he was unsure of where to place them. She leaned in close to him, her nose brushing against his cheek. \

"You can touch," she whispered and oh, _God _words so enticing had never been spoken. She placed her hands on his shoulders and then ran her fingers down his arms until she had his hands and moved them to her thighs. The gesture was almost...intimate, and Tony wondered for a moment how that could be in a room full of other, equally horny men.

She leaned backward, throwing her head back. She tossed her hat to one of the other men, and he rubbed circles on her silky smooth skin with his fingers. Her eyes snapped open at the touch and she looked at him, almost in alarm. There was a beat. A moment. A spark. His heart raced faster than it already had been, if that were possible. But she left him once that moment was over, and he watched her more closely, hoping she would look at him again. She did. More than once. And each time he struggled to figure out what it meant. She was truly intriguing.

...

By two in the morning, the men began to clear out. The girl's time was up. She was waiting in the kitchen for her ride.

Tim thanked Danny and Tony with a handshake each and they wished him all the best for the wedding, though they would both be in attendance on Sunday, the day after tomorrow. Having the party a day early had been the groom's idea. The others had had to comply.

The other men left slowly, finishing long conversations that Tony would rather they finish during last call at a bar someplace rather than in his apartment because _certain people had to work in the morning, as if a hangover wasn't bad enough._

Each man took a long, lingering look at the girl as they left, hoping for the ego boost they had all received from her earlier. Coldly, though, she either ignored them or sneered. She clearly did not appreciate being ogled when off the clock. She had a bit of fire in her. Tony liked that.

Danny left eventually, too, and he was the last to go. He gave Tony a look – he had the beautiful, scantily clad girl in his apartment all to himself. Tony laughed it off and went to talk to her. Could do no harm to talk to her, right?

She was enticing, though. She sat on one of the now-free kitchen stools, one leg crossed over the other. Her "police hat" and her phone sat on the counter beside her, and she tapped her fingernails impatiently, waiting for someone's call or text. Her cheeks were still red and the room was hot, which didn't help.

The first thing Tony did was silence the stereo. He sighed in relief at the ability to hear his own thoughts once more, and she sighed too.

"Thank you," she muttered, checking her phone again. She seemed desperate to leave. Then again, a stranger's apartment in the middle of the night wasn't always the most appealing concept.

"Not a fan?" he asked, sauntering over towards her with as charming a smile as he could muster. He picked up an apple from his fruit bowl. He offered her one; she shook her head no.

"I prefer jazz," she replied dryly.

"Oh," he said, "well, in that case." He picked out a CD and put it in the stereo. Jazz music began to play and he smiled hopefully.

The smile she returned was half-hearted, or perhaps she just wanted it to seem that way. She wouldn't tell him that she loved this song, even though she did. She wouldn't do that.

"I don't believe I introduced myself. I'm Tony," he said, trying again. "DiNozzo."

"Ziva David," she replied. "And, before you ask, it is my real name." Meaning, it wasn't her stripper name, which were usually things like Glitter or Sparkle. Ziva, though, was unusual. Like her name.

"Ziva," he repeated, testing how it felt on his tongue.

"It is Hebrew," she informed him, answering his question before it had begun to form. It was clear this conversation was so common that it was almost scripted in her head. "For 'brilliance'."

"You forgot modest," he said. She actually let out a laugh at that, and he almost felt proud of himself. "Is that an accent I hear?"

"It is, actually," she said. "I thought perhaps it had faded but, apparently not."

"Where are you from?"

She leaned forward with a mischievous look on her face and sipped one of the half-empty anonymous beers sitting on the counter. "Guess."

"Well, you're not American. At least, you weren't born here. Judging by your complexion, I'd say...Middle East?"

She looked content with his answer. "Tel Aviv," she revealed.

He looked a little stunned. "Israel?"

"My family moved here when I was ten. My father was part of Mossad. He was assassinated. My mother wanted to get us out of there."

"Oh. Wow. Sorry," Tony stammered, not really knowing what else to say.

She shrugged and stood up, unzipping the side zip on her shorts. On the very top of her thigh was a Hebrew word, tattooed on. "Family," she explained. "Though that is just my sister and I. She is twelve."

"What about your mother?" Tony thought for a moment that this was getting a little personal but she seemed open about it and frankly she was too interesting for him to care. She could speak about taxes and it would be interesting.

"She died after my eighteenth birthday." She did not say how. "Even before she died we did not have much money, and we had no relatives in the country. The landlady let us keep our little apartment, even if we did not make the rent on time. That was at the start of senior year but I dropped out. I had my sister to take care of and had to have an income. We struggle, but we get by. Even if that means no heat or grilled cheese for dinner five nights in a row and takeout the next."

"Weren't there welfare payments or something?"

"Not enough," she replied.

"So you do this?"

"It is just nights," Ziva explained. "That way, I leave when she falls asleep and I am back to pour milk into her cereal in the morning."

Tony felt a pang inside of him. That was really, really sad.

"Would you...maybe like to get a cup of coffee sometime? Or lunch, maybe?"

"When I dance for people, my hips tell them a story. But they only hear the parts that they want to. That is no fault of mine."

"Is that a no?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not asking for a commitment here, just a cup of coffee."

"And what makes you think I _want_ coffee with the happy-go-lucky cop with the big wallet?"

She held up two fifties in her hand. He looked inside his wallet, which held none of the cash it did earlier that day.

He looked alarmed. "How did you...?"

She smiled slyly. She was cunning, alright.

"Keep it," he said helplessly.

With a laugh, she tossed the bills at him. "I don't take charity."

"Think of it as an investment, then," he said.

"In what?"

"In you."

She scoffed at him. "Put your money away, Mr DiNozzo."

"Tony," he corrected. "Funny, how you only seem to want what you can't have."

"You know, you seem to know me awfully well for someone who learnt my name about ten minutes ago."

"I know you're too proud to accept something you actually need. You've done me a service, let me do you one."

"Ha!" Her phone began to vibrate, and she picked it up and showed herself into his bedroom to talk in private without a single sign of hesitation. He smirked at her boldness, but didn't protest. He bit the last, browning bits off his apple before hearing Ziva yelling into her phone and then making a noise that, whatever it was, certainly wasn't in English.

"What's going on?" he asked. She seemed completely alarmed when she came back into the kitchen.

"My manager had 'somewhere else to be'," she hissed. "He was my ride."

"I can offer you my couch. I'll even pay you for your extra hours."

"I have to get home. I do not have enough for a taxi." She was really beginning to freak out. Tony was a little worried.

"Do you want me to drive you? If you give me directions I can –"

"You have had too much to drink just in the time that I have been here," she told him. He was a little taken aback by that. How observant of her. "Driving drunk and being a cop would be even more of a conflict of interest than having someone like me at your apartment in the first place. No, I will walk."

"Forget it, I'll call a cab. That money you were gonna steal from me should cover it." He gave her a look and picked up the phone.

"No, no, you cannot," she protested.

"I can and I am. You've got your sister to get home to, right? Milk and cereal and all that?"

That was what convinced her to let him, in the end. Her little sister was her first priority, more important than her stupid pride would ever be. They were all each other had. Tony could understand that. It was pretty clear that she hated having a weakness that was sensitive enough for her to compromise her morality but Tony thought she was lucky to have someone in the world that meant that much to her.

He walked her to the curb. She shivered in the night air. Understandable, since he outfit didn't really leave much to the imagination. He looked up and down, and noticed that without her hells she would be a noticeable amount shorter than him. But now, they were the same height, and she could look in his eyes like she did before, the way that made him forget every other thought in her head except the one that was wondering what it was that made her so damn intriguing.

The cab pulled up to the curb rolled the window down.

"Are you Ziva?" the man asked her. She nodded and told him she would be just a minute.

"You know the reason I hate charity?" she asked, looking back at Tony, and he shook his head, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets to keep warm. "I hate being indebted. I mean, I can hardly offer you more than a lap dance in return."

The taxi driver, overhearing them, frowned in confusion.

"_Please," _Tony said. "As fun as that sounds, I think you have more to offer than you think you do." He handed her the two fifties and she smiled and climbed into the cab.

He watched her drive off as his breath made clouds in the night air, and he hoped to God this would not be the last he saw of her.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day was filled with paperwork, the dullest kind, but for once, Tony, Danny and the rest of the boys were incredibly thankful. The fluorescent lights were a little too bright for the likings of their hangovers but at least their work didn't require brainpower that they simply did not have after the night they had had.

Word got out that the stripper had hung around for a while afterwards, and a couple of the guys even asked Tony what had happened. When he answered, truthfully, that they had just talked, their expressions were a mixture of disappointment and suspicion. This was Tony DiNozzo – he did not "just talk" to girls with faces like _hers. _Not to mention dance moves, common attire and, well, her physique was nothing short of phenomenal. Tony let these guys think what they may, but after a conversation with Ziva, he had decided that she was unusual, and she had captured his interest far too much to be the subject of a simple fantasy or dirty joke. She had brains, guts. She was sharp and cunning. She was strong. She was caring and her morals important to her. And he had learned this much from just one night with her.

All this to her and yet there was a part of him – a small part of him that he had tried to drown out – that simply wanted her to be just a fantasy. She was beautiful, sexy, and that look in her eyes last night, so raw and vicious, that had been something to see. But he could close his eyes and imagine her there all she wanted and still his hunger for her, this girl he barely knew, would not be satisfied. And he was frustrated with himself at that fact. And even if he would close his eyes, he would only see her deep, brown eyes with a sparkle in them that drove him crazy.

She was what she was, and that was hard to change. Her nights were spent showing herself off to anonymous men. They get a simple indulgence and she gets her cash and they part ways with no further interaction. That should be it, shouldn't it? Of all the girls out there, what was so special about her? Why, so inconveniently, could he not get her off his mind? It could be called infatuation but that would be stretching things a little thin.

He so wished that she had said yes to that coffee. He'd have sat with her as long as he could, listening to her talk. She was so...atypical. So different. A voice in his mind told him that it was not responsible to want to have lunch with a stripper. Really. She had...other customers. Other men to see. Other dances to dance. She belonged to no man and yet she did not belong to herself either.

He never had liked sharing.

...

The half hour he got for lunch on slow days like these always managed to turn into forty-five minutes or more. As long as he could get away with it, he would try to stretch things out. If he finished all his paperwork there was a chance he'd get stuck with a cold case, and that was a death sentence. Damn the citizens of Baltimore for abiding by the law.

Danny texted him at half past twelve. He had been out of the building most of the morning.

_Lunch? There's a new deli down the street._

Tony replied immediately, his stomach growling in anticipation of a hopefully delicious sandwich.

_Yep. Meet you out front in 5._

...

After the night they had had, a little fresh air and healthy foods could do them no harm. Then again, better for Tim to feel like this on a Friday than on his wedding day, which was tomorrow. It was no wonder he had stayed home.

"That was some party, man," Danny sad, munching with contentment on a tuna sandwich. "Thanks for letting him use your place. I know he'd freak out if we made a mess at his."

"I don't particularly like the mess either," Tony replied. His place was usually spotless, save for the occasional food left out and the magazines scattered across his coffee table. "But it didn't take me long to clean up. It's the cigar smoke smell that'll get me. I've been hangin' little pine trees all 'round the place since you all left."

"What about the girl? You know, the stripper?"

"What about her?"

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened. We talked. Her name's Ziva. She was born in Israel. Her parents died a while back and she looks after her little sister."

Danny looked almost disheartened. "Oh. Well, that's certainly deep for a guy she just met."

"She didn't seem clingy, though," Tony said, and there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice for her. "I get it. I mean, you gotta keep that stuff on the surface. That kinda stuff can't stop you from doing what you gotta do. Needing a job without having graduated high school is a better reason to become a stripper than most other reasons. She's paying for a little girl to stay fed and clothed and to go to school."

Danny frowned. Well, Tony thought he saw a frown. It was hard to tell, today. The sun was out – he could just be squinting.

"That's all a little sentimental, don't you think? It's not like you're gonna see her again."

Tony sighed. "Yeah. I guess."

The two friends walked in silence, chewing on the last scraps of sandwich. They rounded the last corner of the walk back to the station.

The station was near the other end of the street on the left hand side. On the right were little stores, studios and a small apartment building. Outside, one of its tenants was bringing out her garbage cans. Tony gave her a glance, given the chance to better observe his surroundings in the imminent silence, and then looked again.

It couldn't be, could it? Fate was never this kind to a person.

Oh, but it was.

Those wild curls were undeniable. Even in jeans that had clearly seen better days and a plain T-shirt, she was a picture. And it was her. He was sure of it.

_Listen to your thoughts, DiNozzo. You've known this girl for approximately five minutes and she's really not that into you._

His inner monologue, his conscience, his own personal Jiminy Cricket, _whatever, _was right. But he just had to try again. Talk to her again.

He didn't tell Danny it was her. He doubted his partner would even notice if it was not pointed out. Besides, he didn't need more rumours about him and the stripper from McGee's bachelor party being spread about the department. Danny would never say things about him with the intention of hurting him – they were close friends. In fact, anything Danny said would be said with the idea in mind that he would be gaining 'popularity points' for Tony. Tony decided, though, to keep explanations short. Until, at least, he could offer a coherent explanation as to why this girl had been distracting him so for the past twelve hours.

"Listen, Dan, I've gotta go talk to this girl – tell the Boss I won't be long, okay?" he asked, hoping his friend would comply with little to no protest.

"Who is she? Do I know her?"

"Uhh," Tony stammered. "Can I just...I'll fill you in later."

"Got it," Danny said, taking the hint. He gave Tony a friendly slap on the back and made his way towards the station without another word.

Tony sauntered across the empty road with as much panache as he could bring forth.

"Well, well, well," he said with a smile. "If it isn't the girl with the deadly hips."

She looked up in surprise. He had clearly caught her off guard. This wasn't stripper-Ziva, this was big-sister-Ziva. And it was clear in that moment that she liked very much for those two people to stay as far away from each other as they could. It could be dangerous if they became too close and blurred.

She took a moment to compose herself and then the calm look returned to her face. "Tony," she said, recalling his name as easily as if they had known each other for years. "Did you stake me out or something?"

"Actually, I work just over there." He pointed at the station.

She sighed. "Of course." Her lips were pursed and she watched him more carefully than last night, almost as if he was a threat to be assessed.

He clasped his hands around his back and swung on his heels. "So...garbage day?" He made a mental note to slap himself later for that one. Something about her was really making him struggle.

"Yes," she answered. "The elevator is broken so I had to carry this downstairs. We live on the fourth floor."

He nodded and cleared his throat. "So..." he said again.

"Is there something I can do for you other than marvel at the coincidence of how very small this world is?" Her words were rich with sarcasm.

"How 'bout that coffee?" he finally got out.

She looked exasperated. "You know, just because I am a stripper, doesn't mean I'm yours when you want me. I do what I get paid to do."

She took a step away from him and slipped off the curb, landing on the side of the road with a thud, biting back curses and clutching her ankle.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," she lied, trying and failing miserably to stand. "You can go. I will go back upstairs and ice this."

"You just said the elevator is broken. There's no way you're gonna be able to climb four flights of stairs when you can't even walk. Let me help."

She made a face that was almost pouty, and stared hard at the gravel in front of her.

"Ziva," he insisted. "Let me help you." He held out a hand to her, and reluctantly, she took it. He pulled her to her feet. Well, foot. She was kinda hopping. "Get on my back."

"_What?"_

"Just do it. I'm strong, okay?"

With a jump, because with only one foot there was no other way to do it, she threw herself onto his back and he winced at the sudden increase of weight to carry. He reached behind him and took secure hold of her legs, which were wrapped around his waist. Then, with slow but steady progress, he began ascending the staircase.

Even carrying an entire woman on his back did not stop him from noticing how run-down the whole building was. Little patches of mildew grew in the corners of yellowing walls. The skirting boards were dusty and hadn't been maintained. Cobwebs hung loosely across the ceiling and the stairs creaked beneath his feet.

Once he got to the fourth floor she directed him to apartment 4C. That was her place. He reached forward and opened the door, before walking in carefully setting her down beside the sofa. He looked around for the fridge, which sat small and squat in the corner of the kitchen. He rummaged through the freezer to find something to ice her leg with. Finding not much else, he handed her a packet of frozen fish sticks.

"Nice place," he said politely, gazing around, though it wasn't. The inside of the apartment wasn't a whole lot nicer than the hallways. There was no mildew in here, though, which was always a good sign. The walls were a little whiter and it was clear she kept the cobwebs away, but the whole place just felt _tired_.

She had said the previous night that the landlady had 'let them keep their apartment'. That had meant that their mother had lived here, too. How hard it must be to have to live in a place that just reminded them of what had once been. When his mother died, Tony and his father never really settled again. Moved from place to place. That was why he had hardly any friends originating from his childhood.

"You do not have to make small talk," she said, wincing as the cold package touched her sore ankle. It was not too bad, luckily. She would be able to dance tonight, probably.

"Okay. Look, I don't know what you think coffee is, but..."

"I do not see clients outside of work," she answered flatly, not looking at him.

"I'm not your client anymore."

"All the more reason for the discouragement of further involvement."

He wasn't sure how to reply to that. "Ziva, I...I just wanna talk to you. Have a conversation. Get to know you, you know? I think you're interesting."

That almost got her. It enticed her. No one ever stayed around long enough to actually be interested in her. But still, she refused. God, how she would love to sit and talk to a nice man who actually wanted to know her. After the way people treat her, nothing sounded more appealing. But things were complicated. Things would be easier if they were apart.

"Tony, I cannot expect you to understand this, but you have to hear it. I spend every day keeping it together for a little girl with no one else left in the world. And I spend every night taking my clothes off for disgusting men and praying that Tali doesn't wake up and find me gone. You cannot know what that is like. And no matter your offer, I do not have time for a Tony DiNozzo in my life."

He ran a hand over his face, taking in her words. He took a deep breath. Everything she had said only led him to believe that she deserved something better than she had. He decided he would help her, no matter the cost. Even if she never wanted to have that coffee with him.

Even so, now was not the time. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "I got it," before waving and closing the door behind him as he left. Ziva could not stop the wave of guilt that came over her.

**A/N: Don't always expect daily updates. I just happened to have time. It might be a few days before I update again - I have work and musical and I'm going away this weekend. It won't be more than a week. That I can promise. Please alert/favourite/review/whatever. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: What do you know? I DID have time to update! And now I have more time than I thought I did. Thank you so much for all the reviews/alerts/favourites. Keep 'em coming!**

The afternoon had become depressingly overcast as Tony trudged the few hundred yards from Ziva's building to the police station. It had been sunny before. Hadn't it? Or had he not noticed?

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat in frustration. There was a pain inside of him. And it was barely excusable – it was not like she had rejected him. She simply had higher priorities. That was one of the worst parts, too: he did not and probably would not know if she shared even a hint of his infatuation.

She was hard to read. It was clear even from the short encounters he had had with her that she put up a tough barrier to the rest of the world because she was afraid of getting hurt. And he understood that. In fact, he often found himself doing the very same thing. Certain people just...don't get along with the world. Fate's cruel. She lost her parents at a young age, dropped out of high school because she had a sister to take care of. From that information alone it was clear that, behind that wall, she was prepared to make incredible sacrifices for her little sister. She had a large capacity to love.

And here he was thinking about how she could love a person. She, Ziva. The woman that he had met only days earlier. His thought process was a complete mess by this point. This woman, he had learned, was only kind when she had to be. Or, at least, that is what he had gauged. Had she really sent him away because "she didn't have time for a Tony DiNozzo" in her life? Or, had she spared whatever feelings she felt may bubble to the surface if not eliminated? Had she given him an excuse so no one was hurt? Why would she? They were practically strangers.

Strangers and still, he walked the empty streets thinking about her. Across the road from the station he decided that he wasn't done thinking about her. And he circled her block again, because she had sent him away. Once this walk was over, thinking about her could no longer be an indulgence. It could no longer pass his time the way it had for the past 48 hours or so. If he were to think about her then he must only think about ways he can help her. That was his promise, was it not? Unbeknownst to her, of course. She would never let him.

She would have stopped him from helping her, had she known. Even though action had not yet been undertaken.

Did that mean he shouldn't? Did her resistance mean he should stay away and leave a struggling young girl and her little sister buying nothing but time with meagre funds and waiting to be kicked out on their asses.

No. No, of course not. He saw too much of that every day at work. It was even one of the reasons he moved out of narcotics investigation. These girls, barely of age to even be doing the things that they do for small bills, get brought in, their wrists tightly bound by cuffs. And most people wouldn't see past the flashy outfit and the makeup. Past the long legs and the heels. But it didn't take long for Tony to start seeing a new side of these girls. He could see that this was the outfit that brought them the attention they didn't want, but so sorely needed. It would always be worn, torn, ripped. Their hair sometimes was matted and dirty. They had names. He would always learn them. They deserved that much, even if they didn't believe so.

Some of them would shake from whatever drugs they had ingested. Their once beautiful faces would lose shape, and become pale, tight skin stretched over their cheeks. They would cough and gag and wheeze. In the winter and the spring it was always so much worse. And he couldn't take it – these girls had committed offences but he knew throwing them into a tiny cell would not even save them from the hell they had created for themselves. He couldn't help them and that was always the worst part. Well, it was the worst part other than having to talk to them with that barrier in the way. The way they each spoke of their individual decline. They take off their clothes for a picture, then a video, then a crowd. And eventually, just looking at their bodies isn't enough, men have to be able to touch. They dance. And it just grows into more and more until these girls are so violated that they have no sense of self. No sense if purpose or drive or esteem.

And here, he knew a girl stuck in such a vicious cycle, telling herself that she would get out, not like the others. Despite the fact that every girl in that situation tells herself she is not like the others. Maybe Ziva really wasn't. She was certainly different than any other girl that he had encountered before. But even so, no one can do it alone. He'd seen enough "alone" in his few years at Baltimore PD to make him know that, and that no one with as much potential to be as _great_ at life as Ziva deserved it. He would get her out of whatever rut she was stuck in, and he would do it as fast as she could. If not for her, then for her sister. A little girl, anonymous to him or not, should not find her big sister and only companion in the world missing if she wakes up in the middle of the night.

He still had half a block left.

_Think about her, _he told himself. _This is your last chance before it becomes immoral. From now on, she's just someone you are going to help._

He thought about that cup of coffee that never was. And he thought perhaps of the timeline that the said cup of coffee led to. Maybe a real date. Dinner. He could meet her sister. He could kiss her and she could kiss him back and he would feel great that she was kissing him for pleasure and not for cash. He could drive her little sister to school, and he could get her a good job and together they could put food on the table.

What was he feeling? What emotion was this that made him want to become so domesticated? And why had it taken a girl who really did not seem all that domestic at all?

And there it was. The station had popped up in front of him again. The train of thought was well and truly over. He daren't think of wanting to kiss her or hold her or see past that wall she put up. He daren't let himself think such ridiculous things any longer.

What she had said to him could only move him forward. And he'd feel good about himself for helping her, in the end, right? He'd feel glad that she didn't end up another one of those girls that haunt him at night.

And even if he never had that coffee with her, it wouldn't really matter, right?

Right?

...

"Dude," Danny said once he was finally back. "You were gone for a while, what the heck was goin' on back there?"

"I had to talk to that girl," Tony answered simply, trying to push past his partner to his desk.

"Why? You know her?" Danny simply followed him.

"Yeah...sort of."

"Whaddaya mean, 'yeah, sort of'?"

"I mean," he hesitated. Tell or not? "She's kinda the stripper from McGee's bachelor party?"

Danny's eyebrows shot up. "The _stripper_? You've gotta be kidding me here, DiNozzo. I hope you're paying the bill."

"It's not like that," Tony snapped, somewhat ferociously.

"Then what is it like?"

Tony pursed his lips. That was a really good question. "Nothing. We just got to talking. I thought I'd say hi."

"And?"

"That's it."

Danny scoffed. "Okay, Tony. Don't let her fool ya, though."

"Believe me, I don't think that'll be the issue"

...

Groceries. After hours of thought, he was sure that was his answer. He'd seen her cupboards and her refridgerator. They'd been very nearly empty. Mostly full of foods with a long while till their expiry date. Canned things and frozen things, mostly.

Straight after work, he headed to the store. He bought them a whole cart full of stuff that they might need. He avoided fish and nutes just in case maybe either of them were allergic. He passed the magazines and nearly picked himself up a GSM, then thought over how it might go if he were to show up to the apartment of a stripper with a magazine like that and then claiming he'd "like to help her out." Yeah. Not good.

He bought sauces, sausages, pasta, soup, apples, bananas, and oranges, vitamin supplements for the both of them, four gallons of milk and plenty of cereal and bread for breakfasts, orange juice, snack foods for her sister to take to school. The list when on and on, and he felt more domestic by the second. Often he found himself questioning whether this was a smart idea. But in a situation like theirs perhaps smart does not get one very far. That was always his answer to himself. It seemed to work.

Thank God they had fixed the elevator by the time Tony arrived. In his car were three heavy crates of groceries, which he hauled into the elevator and then into the fourth floor hallway. He gave three knocks on the door of her apartment and then bent over to catch his breath.

A small girl with Ziva's curls answered the door.

"Hello?" she said unsurely. Clearly she had her sister's trust, too.

"Hi, I'm Tony. I'm a...friend of your sisters."

"She isn't home right now," the girl said, holding onto the frame of the door shyly.

"Well, that's okay," Tony said, smiling. "What's your name?"

"Tali," the little girl answered.

"Well, Tali, maybe you can help me."

"With what?"

He held up a bag and pulled out a packet of chocolate biscuits. "You like these?"

She nodded excitedly.

"Plenty more where that came from, kiddo." He gestured over to where the boxes were in the hallway, and watched her little face light up as she saw them. This was that feeling – the feeling of knowing he had gotten it right.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you guys for everything! I'm really happy with the response this story is getting. Glad you're all enjoying yourselves. **

Almost all the food is away when Ziva arrives back at the apartment, having gone to see her manager, picking up her pay. She swore he was slicing off more dollars for himself every time, and she patted her pocket, where the bundle of bills lay. She had a nest egg – the little money her mother had left when she had died. But that was for emergencies. Hospital bills, if that were ever necessary. Or if something happened to their mother's old car. Whatever else she had she spent on food and bills and rent and some clothes for Tali, who just kept growing. She needed braces, too, but they would never be able to afford them.

Ziva saw the door of her apartment open and her heart leapt into her throat in panic. Tali had been in there alone! It had only been for five minutes...what possibly could have happened? Had she been taken? Had they been robbed of what little they had? As some kind of knee-jerk reaction, she protectively clasped the gold Star of David charm around her neck and raced in without thinking twice about what possible dangers lay over the threshold.

Actually, there were no dangers. "Hi, Ziva," Tali greeted, munching on a chocolate chip cookie as she sat contentedly on one of their kitchen stools, swinging her legs. She was surrounded by empty paper bags and from behind her, she heard the clatter of cans falling to the floor.

"Who's there?"

"Your friend Tony," Tali told her. Tony closed the cupboard door and picked up the fallen cans, placing them on the counter.

"Hi," he said simply, having been called upon. There was little expression on his face. He was unsure yet of what mood to convey.

"You let in a stranger?" Ziva said somewhat scornfully, ignoring Tony. "What have I told you about that?"

"He said he knew you," Tali defended sheepishly. Her legs were not swinging now.

"People lie, Talia!" Ziva walked over to her sister, placing her hands on the little girl's knees. Tony immediately began to feel like an intruder.

"I wouldn't'a let him in but he had food and...he has a police badge." Tali didn't really know what else to say. "He bought us groceries!"

Ziva took a look at Tony. "Did he now?"

"Yeah, well..." he said with a smile, scratching the back of his head and preparing to be humble about the whole thing. Then he saw her face. It was not a happy expression. Then again, when was it?

She pointed to a door. The bathroom. "Tali, you stay here," she said sternly, not looking at the young girl. "Tony, _IN THERE."_

In one last attempt at salvaging hope at this act, he looked at Tali, feigning terror (though the terror was starting to feel a little real) and she giggled, which in hindsight was definitely a catalyst towards Ziva's anger.

...

A slap across the face was the first thing he heard. A millisecond later he felt the sting.

"OW!" he whined.

"You had no right to do that!" she snapped. She stood close to him with her hands placed menacingly on her hips.

"Look, she seemed pretty happy about it."

"I told you we did not take charity," Ziva said as flatly as she could, but her voice cracked a time or two. "You did not listen."

"I know you don't, but your sister does. And she was hungry," Tony excused.

Ziva pursed her lips and widened her eyes in rage. "She is not your responsibility! I do everything I can for that little girl and I have every day for the last three years. Do you know what that is like? She is MY responsibility. You have no right to walk in here and look like a superhero and rub in my face what you know damn well I cannot give her. You can take your money back, too." She pulled from the small wad in her pocked two fifties he used to cover her cab ride the other night. "If all this was an effort to get in my pants then you are most certainly not going to like the outcome." She tossed the bills recklessly in his face and sat on the edge of the bath, holding her head in her hands. The door creaked, and opened. Tali stood before them.

"Look! Double choc chip ice cream!" the girl exclaimed. But, seeing her sister's red eyes and the hand=shaped mark forming on Tony's cheek, her smile faded.

"That's great, sweetie. Quick, put it in the freezer before it melts." In a second, she switched back to a caring, loving sister, and Tony couldn't help but marvel at that, despite just having been on the receiving end of a particularly harsh physical blow.

Once she was gone, Ziva stood up and looked at him again. "How do you think that makes me feel, Mr DiNozzo? I cannot give her the simplest things in life. Toys and treats and bubble baths and _double choc chip fucking ice cream_." She kicked the bath tub on its side, leaving a scuff mark.

"Okay, okay," Tony said, rubbing his forehead and trying to think of a way out of this. "I'm sorry, I was outta line."

She sighed. "No. No, you weren't. You are just a good person and I...I do not trust anyone. But you were trying to help."

"I shouldn't have gone behind your back. I just thought..." He can't finish that sentence.

"It is like I said: I do not like being indebted. That must be hundreds of dollars worth of food out there." She gestured to the kitchen full of food. It was fuller than it had been in years.

"That's not important. I see kids like you all the time in my line of work. And most of the time they end up druggies or homeless and when I saw your sister...I couldn't bear to see that happen to such a sweet kid. Or someone like you."

"Your job is not to protect me," she said, though it's barely louder than a whisper.

"It's to protect _people. _You wanna know how I got into this job? I was in town for a basketball game and I saw this house one night and a fire had started. I ran in there and headed for something that resembled a bedroom and pulled out this kid." Tony was starting to choke up. "He was crying and screaming and I was trying to get him outta there but he kept yelling, 'My sister! My sister!' That little girl was four years old, Ziva. And I couldn't rescue her. The flames were too strong, there were too many obstacles. And I regret it every day even though I know I had no choice. I can't sit back and watch you suffer when I know I can do something about it."

She immediately felt guilt swell up inside her, and realised that perhaps she had been too quick to judge him. "I should not have yelled, I..." she mumbled apologetically.

"You gotta learn to trust people." Feeling brave, he reached out and touched her shoulder. Remarkably, she let him.

"I do not know how," she admitted. "Not anymore." Her eyes fell to the floor and her head was tilted forward. Her curls fell in front of her eyes and carefully, he brushed them away.

"Let's start with trusting me, huh? How 'bout I make you dinner? And Tali. I can cook, you know. You look like you haven't had a good Italian feed in too long." His smile then was light. He was trying, more than anything else, to make her happy.

"I would like that." She decided that he was right. She did need to start trusting people.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5—

**A/N: Okay, so there was a slight mix-up with the last chapter. This is only applicable to the people who read this story on tumblr, but they accidentally got the unedited version of Chapter 4, which actually had a different ending. So, tumblr people, ignore what you read at the end of the last chapter, it was an error, the subject of which will arise in Chapter 6. This is the ending you were intended to read:**

_"You gotta learn to trust people." Feeling brave, he reached out and touched her shoulder. Remarkably, she let him._

_"I do not know how," she admitted. "Not anymore." Her eyes fell to the floor and her head was tilted forward. Her curls fell in front of her eyes and carefully, he brushed them away. _

_"Let's start with trusting me, huh? How 'bout I make you dinner? And Tali. Say, Saturday? I can cook, you know. You look like you haven't had a good Italian feed in too long." His smile then was light. He was trying, more than anything else, to make her happy._

_"I would like that." She decided that he was right. She did need to start trusting people. _

_..._

They did not see each other until the agreed-upon dinner day. As the time grew nearer, Ziva found herself anxious in a way that she had not been in a long time.

She was, of course, anxious all the time. She was anxious of what scary faces would greet her when she walked into a party, ready to entertain. She was anxious of failing Tali, always. But those feelings were the polar opposite of what she felt now. A nice man was coming to cook dinner for them. The only people that had cooked a meal for the David sisters for the past four years were the Wong family who owned the Chinese takeout on the next block and perhaps a pimply fifteen-year-old working at McDonalds.

Her senses were telling her she was crazy. She barely knew this man and yet something inside of her was screaming for her to trust him, to give in to him, to let him help in whatever way they can. But so much of her told her otherwise; told her that nobody could possibly want to help someone like her. That she was not worth all this. No man made dinner for Ziva David without wanting something in return. A relentless reign over her or her body, usually. Nothing gets you nothing. Except with Tony, it seemed that was not the case.

And he was sweet for everything he was giving them, doing for them, but in the same way that he was an angel, he was certainly a devil, too. For the first time in years, someone was offering to help her carry a load that she had learned to bear in a fine balance. Having him there was making her realise how very tired she was. How badly she really needed that help. How badly she missed friendship and companionship and all that she had had before losing her mother. Contact with friends from high school deteriorated after not long. Even the neighbours that had once offered up friendly hallway conversation just gave Ziva a look as if she had been defeated, and as if they all knew where she snuck off to during the cold nights. She felt guilty for that.

She spent so much time thinking about Tali and how to keep their little lives afloat that she rarely had a moment to spare to think about what it was that she wanted. She would not have it any other way if that meant Tali could be happy, but she knew that this was not true. Tali seemed lonesome. They both were, to tell the truth. Losing a mother as young as she did, after losing a father as well...that does things to a little girl. She was secluded and spent much of her time studying and reading. Ziva could understand why she read so many books. She was rarely caught without a book in her hand. This was so that reality was always easy to escape from – a whole new universe was available at the turn of every page. To a little girl with nothing, maybe living out the lives of her dreams would help her feel better about her own life, even if only for a little while. For Tali, Ziva did everything she could, but for Tali to be truly happy would be a goal not easily achieved.

The two sisters had always been close, but since being left on their own, there had been tension. They had both become more reserved, but especially Ziva, who feared upsetting her sister so much that she rarely talked about anything that was not completely necessary, and she was swamped with guilt by that fact but she couldn't risk damaging whatever functioning relationship they had. Not only for Tali's sake, but for her own. It was all too often forgotten, but Ziva was very much alone, too. She needed her sister as much as her sister needed her. Companionship was a rare and wondrous thing in a world that could be so blatantly cruel – Ziva had learned in her short life that one should hold onto it for life and death.

But now perhaps the strain would ease on their relationship, if he would be there to balance everything out. But would he? Or did the promise of dinner mean that and that alone? Surely not, after pursuing her so determinedly?

She sighed and rubbed her temples as she waited in her kitchen. It was 5 PM, Saturday afternoon, and these same questions had been running through her head for days.

Could she let her guard down a little? Could she relax? Could she even trust him?

She looked over at Tali, who was engrossed in a book. She was sprawled out across the couch, her curls, the mirror image of her own, hanging over the armrest. She wore an old, paint-stained T-shirt that had belonged to her mother a million years ago, her good jeans and her very, very worn out Chuck Taylors. Ziva watched her for a moment, as her eyes darted back and forth, taking in every detail, every word. She hated to interrupt her when she was mid-story, but time was running short.

"Come, Tali, you have to get ready," she said gently. "Tony will be here soon."

"You mean the guy I wasn't supposed to let in?" Tali looked up from her book with a frown. Her voice was filled with sarcasm.

"You understand why I was upset about that, don't you? Strangers can sometimes be dangerous. We have to be careful with these things. I just don't want you getting –"

"Hurt, I know," Tali finished, standing up and snapping her book shut. "But can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do we like Tony? I mean, is he one of those strangers we can trust?"

"He is not a stranger, Tali. He is...a friend."

"Then why not let him in the house?"

"Well, he is a new friend." There was hardly a good way to explain this all to her.

"Do you see him there?" she asked, suddenly barely audible.

"Do I see him where?"

"Wherever you go at night."

Ziva froze and gulped and tried to speak but she simply couldn't. Tali knew. Tali had known for a while. That thought alone was terrifying to her.

Tali shrugged and went off to their room to change.

"Tali, wait," Ziva called. The little girl stopped and obediently came back to stand in front of her sister, who embraced her tightly. "Don't change. You...you look beautiful as you are." Ziva ran a hand over her sister's pink cheek.

"You don't have to feel bad," Tali replied. "I know you have a good reason for doing the things you do."

"Of course I do," Ziva said, wrapping her arms around Tali once more. "It's you, tateleh.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hi, y'all. Sorry for the delay. This is a long chapter though. Like I said, updates won't always be daily. I'll try to make them as frequent as possible. A couple of people asked Ziva and Tali's ages – Tali is twelve and Ziva is in her early twenties. Younger than Tony, who is 25.**

Ziva had trouble pulling away from her sister. She was growing up fast, and while that process lessened the stress on her, she'd never be able to see her little sister as anything but the little girl who used to follow her around and mimic what she did. Tali had always looked up to her big sister, with doting brown eyes. She learned her mannerisms and parroted almost whatever she said.

But Tali was smart. She was observant and sharp – she always had been. When the two sisters and Rivka had moved to America, Tali had been very small, having only really just learnt to string a sentence together. Rivka and Ziva both already spoke decent English, so Rivka encouraged her eldest daughter to speak it as much as she could so Tali would pick up on it. Soon enough she did, and now she could speak both very well. In the early days, they attended a synagogue where Hebrew was exclusively spoken, so none of them forgot their native language. Tali sounded completely American, though, so when people found out she spoke another language they were impressed, but with Ziva it was somewhat expected. She still had a hint of an accent, and of course, there was her tattoo, a Hebrew word.

Ziva realised, upon pulling back and looking at her sister, with her hands cupping her cheeks, that the little girl she had once known might go away forever if she was not careful. Even Tali's cheeks, once rosy-coloured and chubby, were different. Ziva felt cheekbones beneath her hands. The younger girl knew that her sister left her at night, and that killed both of them. Ziva hated hiding from Tali, and Tali hated having things hidden from her.

But unlike Ziva, who was very guarded – that had come from the sting of losing both parents, whereas Tali didn't remember their father Eli very well at all – Tali had something special within her. She had compassion. That was why, even though she hated the lies and fully comprehended their potential to damage the delicate system the two of them had learned to adapt to, she would never anger. How could she? The sister Tali knew and had always known only kept secrets if there was a very, very good reason. This was knowledge Tali depended on. She had to. What else did she have? She wouldn't ask where Ziva went at night, but she needed to know she knew.

"I will change," Tali said. "We don't get visitors often – I hardly think someone like Tony deserves to see me in one of Ima's old T-shirts."

Ziva's eyes were tearing up, but she smiled. For someone so young, that girl understood things better than most. "No, I suppose not. Go and put your dress on, hm? You look very sweet in that."

Ziva changed too, into an eggplant-coloured blouse and black pants and flats. She glossed her lips and curled her lashes and it occurred to her how long it had been since she had put makeup on for someone who wouldn't later have her strip of every garment on her body. With a sigh, she stared at her reflection. Seldom did she look at herself and feel happy. _They..._they told her she was beautiful, but she'd never believe them. If anything it lowered her opinion of herself and caused her to greet her own reflection with increasing remorse and disgust. She forced her lips into a tight smile.

_Tony doesn't think those things about you. He likes you. He thinks you're interesting. _

When it failed to cheer her she realised that her feelings had very little to do with Tony and much more to do with the fact that any love felt for her was in short supply.

God, she had to get out of that job.

A knock at the door startled her. When she had made her way from the bathroom to the living room, where the door was, Tali had answered it and let their guest in.

"Don't you look nice?" he was saying to Tali, bent over and smiling at her. A grin spread over Tali's freckled cheeks. In an instant, the knowing, solemn girl who was wise beyond her years had disappeared. Ziva longed for the days when she could make her sister smile like that, but at least someone out there could.

Tony's expression changed when he saw her. He stood up straight and his emerald eyes lit up. For a few moments, he let himself just blatantly stare, and she didn't shy away. She was used to eyes on her but there was something different about his. He was looking into her eyes, for one. After a minute long and lingering, he smiled again.

"Mr DiNozzo," she greeted, the corner of her mouth lifted slyly.

"Miss David," he replied.

Tali decided she was tired of long silences and spoke up: "Will dinner take long? I'm _starved_." After realising what that probably sounded like to Ziva she looked alarmed and gave her a look clarifying that it had been only an expression. Ziva tried to ignore her gnawing guilt.

"Well," Tony said, putting his game face on. "In my personal experience, the DiNozzo recipe for Bolognese sauce always tastes better the next day, so..." he pulled a big container of sauce from the paper bag under his arm. "Made with plenty of veggies just yesterday, all we gotta do is finish it off."

"What next?" Tali asked.

He handed her two packets of pasta. "We boil the water and then we put the pasta in."

The two set to it, and Ziva watched from the living room, intrigued. It occurred to her how easy it seemed for Tali to trust him. She did not often warm easily to strangers, but she had warmed to Tony in an instant. Was she faking, for her sake? Did she think for some reason that Ziva maintaining some kind of relationship with Tony had become crucial? Or was there something about him that really made her want to trust him.

As she watched them slurp pasta together, Ziva decided that it was the latter.

...

The David sisters kindly helped themselves to seconds, and Tali thirds. Thankfully, Tony had prepared for that and there was plenty for leftovers, too.

"Why don't you go wash up, Tali?" Ziva suggested. "It is nearly bedtime." They'd been talking for nearly an hour after finishing their meal, and time had flown. Reluctantly, Tali did. Tony gave her a little wink as she left.

"How old is she, again?" Tony asked.

"Twelve."

"She doesn't seem it." He looked rather perplexed.

"She is small for her age, and when our mother died she became very secluded. Despite the fact that she is too smart for secrets to be kept from her, she is young in her nature. I do not blame her. It was very hard for me to not act like a little child after losing our mother. And yet most of the time around me she is different. She acts older than she is. Maybe she thinks I need her."

"I think she'd be right," Tony said quietly, as if unsure if it was a good idea.

Ziva swallowed hard. "Well, we need each other," she admitted, frowning. "But around you she acts like a child again."

"I have been told I'm an overgrown child multiple times," he said, feigning pride. She laughed and lifted her hand to pick out the last, small (and slightly burnt because Tali and Tony had forgotten to take it out of the oven on time) piece of garlic bread. He reached for it at the same time, during a lapse in conversation. Their fingers brushed and he smiled, suddenly with the bashfulness of a teenage boy.

"You take it," he told her, and she did, biting into it with a satisfying crunch.

"It is delicious," she complimented. "Your mother's recipe?"

"My dad's, actually." He looked suddenly solemn. "He only started making it after she died, though. My mom."

"I'm sorry." She was, but a part her felt contented that they shared something. Perhaps he had more depth than she had initially believed. "For your mother and...for judging you too harshly."

He shrugged. "Hey, I'd have done the same thing if I were you. Some guy you don't even know tries to buy you groceries." He laughed nervously. "I was stupid."

"No, you weren't. You were decent. And my sister and I rarely see that."

"You deserve more."

"I am glad you think that."

"No, I mean, I may be able to help you out on the whole decency front. Down at the department the head of the Homicide Department – that's my department – he wants an office assistant."

She shook her head, laughing, which confused him. "Me?"

"You're smart. You watch and you learn. Tell me, which vegetables were in that sauce that you just ate?"

"Tony –" she protested.

"Ziva," he pushed. He watched her carefully.

"Uh...mushroom, tomato, eggplant, green and red pepper ," she answered, vaguely confident.

"Right. See? I didn't even tell you that."

"There is always someone so much better." Ziva stood up and walked into the living room , leaning against the back of the couch. "I stand no chance."

"You can't keep telling yourself, that, you know. You can't hold it together forever," he said, following her. He stood close to her.

She looked at him with a hard expression. "I have no choice."

"Yes you do," he said. "Look, I put in a good word for you. Just come in on Monday."

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Because," he answered, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. "You're better than this. What happened to trusting me?"

"You don't know me," she told him coldly, walking further away from him. She circled the couch so it was between them.

"Sure I do. You're a scared kid putting up a strong front for another scared kid. Your guilt's eating you alive. You're lonely. You think you're worth squat because that's what you tell yourself."

She stopped dead and sat down when she realised he was completely right. He came to sit beside her. "It's decent pay, Ziva. You'll work days, sure, but you're only around the corner if she needs you. The interviews are on Monday. Just come in. I'll swing by and drive Tali to school if you want."

Ziva looked into those emerald eyes again. They were honest and kind and at the same time, terrifying. "This cannot be happening."

"What?"

"I stopped telling myself that people like you actually existed years ago." Tears threatened to fall again. "And every day I was reminded of how right I was and then you..."

He was unsure of what to say. "You know I like movies? I think if we were in one this'd be the part where _Here Comes the Sun _starts playing and things start looking up."

She gave the softest laugh. "I do not know what to say."

"Say 'thank you, Tony'."

She touched his cheek. "Thank you, Tony," she whispered. Their faces were close, eyes locked. From the doorway of her bedroom, Tali watched them closely. Ziva opened her mouth a fraction but her phone beeped and she moved away.

"What is it?"

Her smile had disappeared. "Work. I had thought they would leave me alone, I was not booked tonight."

"Call him. Your manager. Tell him you're done."

She was silent and still with fear. He touched her shoulder. Baby steps.

"I'll see you Monday, right?" Tony said, standing up and picking up his jacket to leave. Ziva nodded feebly. He turned towards where Tali stood, much to her surprise. "See ya, kiddo." She gave a little wave and both girls watched him walk out the door.

"What are you doing out of bed, tateleh?" Ziva asked tiredly.

"Are you going?" Tali clutched the blanket wrapped around her. The child in her was scared of being left alone tonight.

Ziva stared at her phone. She'd never dared ignore a call from him before. There is a first time for everything.

"No," Ziva answered. "I am staying here with you." Whatever trouble she would be in, she didn't care anymore. Tali's smile was worth it all.


	7. Chapter 7

The guilt surrounding Tali disappeared when Ziva sent her sister to bed, convinced that she knew she wasn't going anywhere tonight. But her anxiety only heightened. The phone kept ringing. Three times he called for her, leaving ten minutes in between each call. He wouldn't be happy.

Ziva's manager went by the name of Scorpion, which Ziva had always thought pretentious in the back of her mind (her survival depended on it staying at the back). His real name was Stephen, but he hated being called that because he was named after his father, with whom he had had a falling out with when he was eighteen. Remembering this, Ziva sighed. Even the most pretentious of people had a back story.

Scorpion was tall and thin with olive skin. He was of Middle Eastern descent, that much was obvious from his complexion, but he showed no connection to his roots. His limbs were long and gangly, and his hands had fingers that curled so easily around a girl's wrist. He had a small amount of tiny, wiry, black hair on his head and a poorly-maintained goatee surrounding his mouth and covering his pointy chin. He was terrifying to look at, with deep-set eyes so dark they were almost black and protruding cheek bones. On his finger he wore a gold signet ring that indented the face of every face his hand made contact with, including Ziva's, at some point in the past.

Remembering the feeling of a slap to her cheek, Ziva twisted the Star of David around her neck and then clutched it. She usually took it off on the nights she danced, though she had forgotten the night she met Tony, interestingly enough. Ziva's stomach twisted in fear at the thought of telling Scorpion she was not going to dance for him anymore. He was powerful and strong and incredibly threatening when he wanted to be. Other times he was civil, even cooperative. But those were the good days; the days with lesser alcohol consumption.

She knew now that ignoring his calls had been reckless. Not her best decision, by far. But the look in Tali's eyes, of betrayal, of dependence...she couldn't bear to see that look again. After all they had lost together, Ziva could not and would not stand to have their relationship torn apart. To each, the other was a necessity. If sacrifice was necessary for Tali, then she would welcome all trouble from Scorpion.

Besides, perhaps it would be worth it. If she could just get this job, things would change. She had given herself little hope in her potential over the years but for some reason she felt as if she could believe in herself again. Maybe it was having Tony around – another human prepared to tell Ziva that she was worth something. She had not had that in so long, and maybe that was what she had needed.

These thoughts circled through her head again and again through the night and into the early hours of the morning. Ziva indulged herself in a glass of wine and then welcomed sleep and the new day with all the hope she could muster, which, though not much, seemed more than normal.

...

On Sunday morning, it stormed, and Ziva rolled over, curling up in her sheets. Her curls were especially wild this morning, but she did her best to ignore them and sleep as long as she could. It was rare that she slept in on a Sunday. It was almost ten and she had heard no sign of Tali. But that could be Tali being courteous. She would often lie in bed and read till midday or later, lost in a story, just like always.

But then she heard a telltale patter of feet upon the floorboards and smiled into her pillow. Tali used to sneak into her room in their house in Tel Aviv when they were children. The feeling of familiarity was heart-warming and Ziva did not mind so much being woken up.

Wordlessly, Tali pushed open the creaky door and climbed into Ziva's bed and snuggled in beside her. Ziva listened to her breathe and she listened to the storm outside the window and she felt strangely whole, all of a sudden. She had lost so much, but still she had someone beside her. Someone to love. Ironically, she had forgotten that detail in the attempt to simply survive and adapt, but she thanked God silently that her little sister was still beside her. Something about the feeling of Tali's breath against her arm made her feel like maybe things should not be taken for granted. She was, after all, so very lucky.

...

As Ziva waited impatiently for their rather unpredictable toaster to...well, toast the bread, she heard Tony knock at the door. With a sigh (not at Tony, at the toaster), she spun around and took a banana from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and handed it to Tali.

Tali smiled, smoothing out her green-checked school dress as she stood, and answered the door. Tony stood there with a goofy grin. He held up a bag. "I come bearing toaster waffles!"

Ziva was amused, but as she was about to interject, the toast popped out, burnt black. "I would not trust our toaster."

Tony pursed his lips. "Oh. Well, in that case..." he reached for a banana, looking to her for what felt like permission. She made a gesture that he was welcome to take one. He did pay for it, after all.

"Hey, so how 'bout we walk up to the station and I'll take you to work in a police car, huh?" Tony suggested to Tali in an excited tone, with his mouth full of banana. Tony had done his fair share of workshops and school visits – kids almost always loved the cop cars. But Tali didn't seem to. She bit her lip and looked hesitantly at Ziva. "What's up?"

Tali was silent. So was Ziva. Tony swallowed.

"My car, then?"

Tali nodded.

"I hope you're not gonna be like that the whole way," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I need directions."

"You will be fine, tateleh," Ziva assured. Tony frowned but gestured for Tali to follow him.

"Interview's at twelve, Ziva. I'll meet you at the front entrance of the station, okay?"

She nodded as they left.

...

"You want to know," Tali stated after not long. She buckled her seat belt. "About the car."

"Well, I'd say I'm a little curious," Tony said, surprised by how forward she was.

"Take a left here." Then she visibly gulped. "The police picked me up in one of their cars when they found out about my mom..." she couldn't say anything else. Tony instantly felt guilty.

"Oh, God, Tali, I'm sorry."

"You didn't know. It's okay." She gave him a half-smile, and her appreciation was obvious.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Take a left again." He followed her directions.

"What's with the nickname? The tateleh thing? What's it mean?"

"It actually means 'little father', but our Abba – our Dad – he used to call us it anyway. Sort of his version of 'darling'."

"So it's like a term of endearment?"

"Sure. My turn now." She smiled coyly.

Tony smiled too, glad that she wasn't thinking about her mom anymore, but he was honestly a little alarmed. Tali was smart – he was not sure if he was ready for her questions. "Who says you get a turn?"

"I do. Turn right." Tali smiled and folded her arms across her chest in thought. "Do you like my sister?"

"Of course I like your sister," he answered honestly. His fingers gripped the wheel a little tighter.

"No, I mean, do you like-like her?"

Tony almost laughed out loud at the sight of the true twelve-year-old coming out in Tali. He clicked his tongue, searching for the right answer. "Grown-up stuff's a little more complicated than that, Tals." Tony stopped the car in front of Tali's school. She grabbed her backpack and tugged at her ponytail, making sure it was secure.

"It doesn't have to be," she said. "Thanks for the ride." She slid out of the car and waved as she walked through the school gates.

"You're a smart kid," he said, knowing full well that she wouldn't hear.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 –

Tony watched Tali saunter into school in wonder. God, for a kid who'd gone through that much, her head was screwed on unbelievably straight. It gave him hope, in a way. Talia David would not have to be fished out of a bad place like her sister. Of course, that did not make Ziva any less brave or strong or smart, but it was comforting to know that Tali wouldn't have to take salvage in a place of desperation. Desperate times do not always call for desperate measures.

Sunday's rainclouds had lingered and were beginning to gather again. Part of him hoped for a little sunshine. It fit the mood after all. The sisters' lives were finally beginning to pick up. This was the part of the movie where there was a montage to an inspiring song.

Then again, montages had always irritated him. There were too many little successes for two or three minutes of screen time. Celebrate the small things in life. Maybe small successes – like Ziva getting this job, for example – would be one of them.

...

Major Frank Raimey was waiting for Tony when he arrived in that morning.

"DiNozzo...where ya been this morning?" The sides of his thick lips were downturned but he did not look angry. Irritating in the office as they may be, Danny and Tony were unstoppable. They'd put away more bad guys than the rest of the department that year.

"Sorry, Major, just running an errand," he said casually, falling into his chair.

"What kind of errand?" The Major looked disapproving – well, more so – that an errand had been run on his time. There was always another bad guy out there to be caught.

Tony gave the Major his most charming smile and held up a brown paper bag. "The kind with bagels?"

Frank glared at him for a moment but quickly snatched the bag out of the detective's hand and picked out the roundest, largest bagel for himself. "Good answer, Anthony."

"Not a problem," said Tony, pulling out a file that had been resting on his desk for a few days now. "Oh hey, about that girl I told you about, Ziva –"

"Oh yeah, I was gonna mention that to you. A girl came in and applied for it yesterday, she was great. She had office experience and had a miniskirt to die for. We're probably gonna go with her."

"With all due respect, Major, I don't know if your wife would approve of you hiring a young piece of ass in a miniskirt."

Frank looked sheepish. Danny walked in from the bathrooms and sat at his desk, which was next to Tony's.

"What are we talking about?" he asked.

"This office assistant job," Tony explained, then looking to the Major. "My girl's better. She's got instincts, brains."

"_Your_ girl?" Danny questioned. "Since when is there a girl?"

"She's not mine..." Tony stammered. "I just think she'd be good for the job, okay?"

"I get that, Tony. Look, I'll give her a shot, okay? No promises though." With that, Frank took another bagel and disappeared into his office. Tony felt a little downhearted. He had been hoping for something a little more concrete than "no promises". Ziva would just have to kill it in her interview. He hoped she could do that.

"So who is this girl?" Danny asked, leaning across his desk and locking his fingers together. "And why are you so keen to get her to work here?"

"She's...she's nobody. And it's not really about her working here, it's more about her not working where she words now."

"Doesn't sound like nobody. And what's she doing now?"

Tony chewed the inside of his cheek. Nonchalantly, he picked up a bagel and lifted it to his lips. "You remember that girl from McGee's bachelor party?"

Danny spluttered, nearly choking on his coffee. "The stripper?! Still, Tony?"

"When you say it like that..."

"It sounds stupid? Well you're right! It is stupid!" He slammed his hand against the desk, making a loud thump. A few heads turned but most ignored them.

"Dan, you don't know her," Tony defended.

"Neither do you! You could get an STD or somethin'."

"Shut up, Danny," Tony said, his voice low. He was angry. His fists were clenched underneath the desk. One more bad word and Danny would be out for the count. "It's not _like_ that. She's amazing. She's beautiful and smart and totally selfless. We're friends."

Danny looked at him, studying his face closely. A few seconds too long, apparently. Tony looked away, feeling too much like one of their suspects. "You don't want to be just friends, though, do you?"

"It's like I said, Dan, it's not like that. _She's_ not like that. She's not some cheap hussy who uses her body to get what she wants. She does it because she has to."

"Jeez, the way you talk about her, you'd think you were actually falling for this girl."

It was a backhanded comment, with no real insight behind it on Danny's part. Yet Tony's shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched and he stared at the floor. He couldn't defend himself against that one. It was an insult against Ziva. It wasn't an insult _period. _

Danny looked back at Tony and his eyes widened. "Tony, you've got to be kidding me."

"Look, you're supposed to be my best friend. You could at least be a little compassionate here."

"She's a STRIPPER! What do you want me to say, Tony? I mean, a little fantasy or two, I'd understand but THIS?"

"I'm not stupid. I know – you don't, but I do – that friendship is all I might ever have from her. She's been damaged real bad on the inside, and her life is busy. She told me that when she first met me. She doesn't have time for a Tony DiNozzo."

"So you're trying to fix it so she does have time?"

"I'm _trying_ to _help her_. I know her now. I couldn't watch her end up like another one of those kids Narcotics bring in. She _can_ have a better life. Just...don't say anything to her, when she comes around later. I don't want her to know anything. Not when she's starting to properly trust me."

"And if it doesn't work out?"

"Then I suck it up and deal with it," Tony said, but it was obvious that he hoped and believed he would not have to do that.

"There's a million out there just like her."

"No there's not."

Danny felt sorry for the guy; he handed over his bagel as a pity gesture. "Zebra can't change its stripes, you know." Then he called out to someone across the room and left Tony alone with his thoughts, which were quickly accumulating.


	9. Chapter 9

Tony sat still in his chair for an hour or two. He listened to the infuriating ticking of the clock and of the noise around him. People talking on phones, clicking keys at their computers. He tapped his foot impatiently, willing for time to go faster.

He hated fighting with Danny. It hadn't really been a fight, though. It had come from a place of concern, Tony knew that much, but he'd jumped to Ziva's defence before Danny could really say anything all that bad. About either of them. Maybe that did mean something. Maybe Danny had been right. Maybe he really had feelings for her.

It had been a possibility this whole time, from the moment they locked eyes in that dark room something about her had stuck in his mind so she had barely left. And they'd known each other, what, less than a _week? _Tony froze. No. That couldn't be right. Could it?

Thursday night had been McGee's party. Friday she had hurt her ankle. He brought her groceries. Saturday he cooked them dinner. Sunday it had rained. And today she was coming in for her interview. How was it in such a short time she had snuck her way into his life? Five days knowing each other and he thought about her all the time. Five days and he trusted her entirely.

Five great days, but five days nonetheless.

Oh God, he was insane. He really was beginning to have feelings for her.

He wanted to slap himself. She'd said it from the first moment they had met. She didn't have time for a Tony DiNozzo. Was Danny right, was all this just for the sake of time management? Had he wanted things to change so that she would have time for him?

What was he doing, feeling things about this woman? She'd finally started to really trust him – he couldn't drop this on her now. He'd shut himself up, somehow. Push these thoughts down and down and down until he wouldn't have to acknowledge them. Whatever he felt, he would refuse to give into it. If he cared about her at all then he couldn't risk things changing, not when she was about to quit her job and hopefully get a new one. If he was going to help her, he couldn't help himself. It didn't work both ways.

He'd known it from the beginning. She had told him herself.

Ziva David belonged to everyone and no one.

…

He put up with the stupid clock on his desk for as long as he could before he had to get out of there. It was 11:40. Ziva would be here soon.

He stood up and started storming towards the staircase that would lead him towards the entrance of the building. He passed Danny on his way. They both stopped short of each other, staring silently.

"You gonna say something?" Tony asked.

"Sorry?" Danny tried. "Look, I don't know this girl. If you like her that much I… I'm sure she's somethin' special."

"You're right. She is." With just the slightest hint of hesitation, tony held out his hand for a handshake. A peace offering. A sign of forgiveness. "We good?"

"Of course," Danny said with a surprised smile. "I hope you'll properly introduce me, if you don't mind."

"You got it."

Tony left after that, feeling somewhat relieved. Though he had been a bit of a judgemental ass, Danny was his closest friend. His partner. In all his years, he'd learned that nothing was quite like the bond between two people that fight crime together. Like Batman and Robin. Of course, he was Batman. Obviously.

…

There was an awning out the front of the department, supported by two brick pillars, against one of which Tony leaned. He stared past the lifeless parking lot out into the street, which was equally lifeless in the middle of the day. He spotted the occasional car, and a mother pushing her baby along. Tony hoped they had an umbrella; the sky was looking blacker by the minute.

Suddenly he spotted a petite figure moving towards him. She wore a white shirt and pencil skirt that he never knew she owned, and her curls had disappeared, her hair straightened and pulled back into a neat ponytail. She carried a clutch purse and something else in her hand. Drinks.

He couldn't hide the smile that crossed his face when he saw her. It was almost pride, that he felt for her. She had come so far in such a short amount of time. Or, rather, she had already been 'there', she just needed to step across the threshold.

"Hey," he said, his voice unintentionally soft and warm. "You look …" He shook his head wordlessly.

"Thank you," she replied with a girlish smile. She handed him a paper cup.

"What's this?"

"Well, since you got me this job interview," she said. "I thought maybe you deserved that coffee you wanted."

"Wow." He couldn't hold it back. He couldn't help it. The way her eyes sparkled as she looked at him and sipped her own drink – a hot chocolate, he could tell from the smell – and the way she smiled as she licked off the remnants of a chocolate moustache, and the way she laughed carelessly, throwing her head back.

"You're not nervous?" he asked, intrigued by her behaviour.

"Oh, I am. But I think I have prepared myself for the worst. If I don't get this, then…"

"But you will," he protested. "You can." He gripped her forearm. "I know you can."

Before she could reply, thunder crashed above them, and rain began to fall on the pavement. The wind picked up, and subconsciously, they stood closer to each other to keep warm. She simply watched the world for a moment. Watched each drop fall onto the ground, listening to the sound, smelling that amazing smell.

"Come on, we should get inside," Tony suggested.

"Why?" She didn't move a muscle, other than her mouth. "I love the rain. After all, I grew up in Israel. It is a desert."

"Yeah, well."

So they watched the rain together and felt the minutes pass. All of a sudden her now icy fingers grabbed his. It was a silent gesture, and he squeezed her hand tight in response. At her touch he suddenly felt like a child. Like he was stuck in a world where life hadn't become cruel just yet. Where girls were just girls and not utter complexities like the one on his side.

"I sometimes wish it would just keep raining. I mean, I know it's annoying but I think it's beautiful. It's like the world righting itself, keeping itself clean and good. And if I whole planet can do that then I can, can't I?"

She would never stop intriguing him.

Their hands didn't part until Tony's watch beeped 12:00. Time for Ziva's interview. He showed her up the stairs where Major Raimey was waiting for them.

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love this story has received so far. I'm really happy with it. I'd love it if you could leave a review about what you liked, etc. It means a lot to me. If you want more fics (although this one is taking up most of my time) I write heaps of one-shots on my tumblr, which is cotederpablo. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Oh, look, double digits! And I've still got a bit to go! Don't forget to please keep leaving reviews, they really encourage me to keep writing. Thanks, guys. **

Chapter 10 –

Raimey gave Tony a subtle nod at the sight of Ziva's very work-appropriate attire. This was, after all, a good start. He gave Ziva a friendly smile and gestured that she follow him. For just a moment, she whipped around and looked at Tony. Her shoulders were tensed and her eyes were full of fear. For a moment, she was a scared kid. She looked as if it had hit her what she was doing, how big of a change this was. And at the end of the day she probably didn't feel like the place she could run to was constant at all. She was in the world; the world that had been hard on her early on, and the world from which she had stayed hidden away for years.

He automatically felt concerned at her sudden fear, but gave her arm a squeeze as if he was steady as a rock. Danny began calling to him across the floor, and Tony's eyes darted back and forth between the two.

"Go with him," Tony whispered to Ziva. "You'll be fine, I promise."

She took a deep, visible breath, slowly turned on her heels and followed Raimey towards a conference room. It was a small, rectangular room with dusty blinds blocking the eyes of intruders. In the middle sat a long table with two seats either end. Raimey told Ziva to take a seat, which she did, smoothing out her skirt as she did so. She hated feeling like this. Nervous. Inadequate. Unworthy, even.

"So," Raimey began, licking his finger and flicking through his copy of Ziva's resume page by page. "Miss. . . David, is it?" He pronounced it wrong, like the male first name.

"It is pronounced _Dah-veed _, actually," she said with a slight stutter. She didn't want to seem...what was the phrase...snooty? Yes.

"David," he repeated, testing it out. He nodded, seemingly in approval. "Okay, Ziva, why do you want to work here at Baltimore PD?"

Ziva's heart leapt into her throat. She tried to shake away her nerves. After all, she still had her 'old life' to fall back on if this didn't work out – however dismal that old life was. It occurred to her that while she would not rather be riddled with self-disappointment, what she most cared about was making Tony happy. In such a short time he'd brought so many smiles to her face, and to Tali's too, that she owed him nothing less than her best.

"I am not happy at my current occupation," she answered. "And I am looking for new experiences, to learn, and I am interested in law enforcement."

"Now, that doesn't come from watching those late night crime marathons, does it?" Raimey said. He was kidding, and Ziva gave an unconvincing laugh (she actually did catch a late night crime marathon or two when she had the time, or when sleep was simply fleeting).

"I would like to learn about your processes too," she continued. "I would like to meet _good people_."

Raimey seemed a little intrigued by her answer, but all in all it was a routine interview. He did not dwell on her. "What kind of skills do you think you can bring to this job? As an office assistant, I mean."

"I am a fast learner," she said. "I pick up new skills quickly and I would say I am intelligent." She tried not to sound unsure of that, even though in truth she _was_ very intelligent. "I am good at talking to people. I am committed."

"That's right, and I see you've been committed to your sister for a few years now?"

Ziva nodded.

"Would this job in any way interfere with your ability to be her guardian?"

"We live just around the corner – in the event of an emergency we are close to each other. She catches a school bus on weekdays."

"Okay, good, good," he mumbled, scribbling things in his notes. Just a few more questions."

Ziva nodded again.

...

"You know, watching the door won't make it open any faster, Tony," Tim called to his friend across the room.

"They've been in there kinda a long time though, don't you think?" Tony replied, not adjusting his gaze.

Danny consulted his wrist watch. "It's been ten minutes," he said flatly. At that, Tony turned around.

"Only ten? You sure?" Tony felt a little embarrassed. He'd been worrying sick since Ziva walked through that door.

"_Somebody's got a crush on the stripper," _Danny said in a sing-songy voice, trying to cheer him up. It didn't, really.

"A stripper, Tony? That's a little cliché, don't you – " McGee began, but Tony cut him off before he could finish.

"Alright, McGoo, Danny and I have already had this conversation once. Yes, she's a stripper. Yes, she's the stripper from your bachelor party. Yes, I may have some resemblance of . . . feelings for this woman," she slowed his speech down a little. "No, I never said it was a good idea." Tim opened his mouth to speak but Tony held up his hand. "And no, we aren't sleeping together. Okay? Are we happy now?" Tony seemed flustered, partly from being tired of this, and partly from the waiting.

"I was gonna say, actually, that I hope everything goes okay. You know, with you, and her." Tim gave his friend an encouraging smile, and Tony grinned back, for probably the first time in days.

"Thanks, man."

The conversation ended when they all saw Raimey and Ziva walking out the door and shaking hands.

McGee and Danny exchanged whispered questions, rapid-firing like school girls when they see something scandalous, like no one could hear them. Tony could.

"She looks so different," McGee said. "You know, not dressed up."

"She's hot," Danny said, a little more blunt than his friend. "I can see why Tony goes for her."

Tony turned again and gave his friend a glare.

"Her amazing personality, of course," Danny said, trying to save himself. Tony wasn't even paying attention, really. He hurried over to Ziva. The two other men shrugged, accepting that perhaps things would be this way from now on.

"How'd it go?" Tony asked practically as soon as he was within earshot.

"I suppose we will see," She was being ominous but she was smiling. He felt relieved.

"Good, good," he said, patting her arm. "I'll walk you home."

"No you won't!" Raimey called out. "We got work to do, DiNozzo."

"I'll come by later," Tony assured her, and she left with a wave as she disappeared into the stairwell.

"Nice pick, Tony," Raimey said, when Tony was back at his desk. "She's good."

"Did she get it?"

"I gotta deliberate a little," he said. "But she's got a good chance."

Tony grinned again and the other men laughed and returned to their work. Things were looking up yet again.

...

Ziva felt better about herself than she had in months after walking home from that interview. She had a bounce in her step that had been dearly missed and a confidence that radiated.

But it didn't last long.

She arrived home to see her phone sitting on the kitchen bench.

Three missed calls from Scorpion.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This is kind of a dark chapter. Just a warning. Also, I'm aware there was an issue with the updating, thank you to everyone who informed me about it, I'm really sorry. Clearly the website was having a bit of an issue. Apparently it's resolved now. When it wasn't working I tried uploading this chapter twice, so chapter 12 actually hasn't been written yet. **

Chapter 11 –

Ziva's heart began to race and she started to panic. The last call had been a half hour ago – what was he going to do?

Should she call? Reconcile? Forget this whole thing ever even happened?

She thought of Tony. She thought of Tali. She thought of everything she had convinced herself of over these past few days – she was better than all of this, and deserved more, and that she was in control of her own life.

When a threat is presented, no matter how great, it must be faced. Ignoring something does not always make it go away, especially in this case.

...

By three, Tony had wandered away from the precinct, with only Ziva on his mind. Being in the same room as Raimey was too distracting – he'd just kept pestering until they knew about the job. He gave himself a "long lunch" and took a wander. Not all that surprisingly, he had ended up at her building.

His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets – the day was still cold, and the streets were still wet from the earlier rain. His mind flashed back to a few hours ago. They watched it rain. She held his hand. He remembered the feeling perfectly. Somehow his own numb-from-the-cold fingers were not the same.

He thought of her, dwelling shamelessly on her perfect features and long silky hair. Those eyes that drew you in, those lips that were oh-so tantalising. And her heart, her good heart. She had an unbelievable capacity to love. He knew that much of her. It was so easy to feel these things about her.

And yet, feeling these things about her was not his job, and it was not right of him. A constant, he told himself for the millionth time, was what she needed. And maybe there'd never be room for him in that big heart of hers. He needed to accept that.

But, God, how he loved to think about her.

Was he kidding himself? He wondered if this would ever be more than a simple indulgence.

The best things, he had learned, take the longest.

He was about to round the corner back to the police station when he heard someone else behind him. A man on a phone, talking quite loudly. He looked Middle Eastern but he spoke with a British accent, and he was walking very briskly along the street and towards Ziva's building.

Tony reached for his holster, feeling for his gun. It was empty. He cursed inwardly, remembering that he'd left it in his backpack, with his _badge. _That was a rookie mistake. Even though he'd only intended to stand outside the building and not walk the block.. . .there was no excuse, that was completely stupid of him. He knew thinking about Ziva was indulgent, but he had had no idea that it could potentially be dangerous.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at, ignoring my calls?!" the man demanded, Tony was close enough to him now that he could hear defense from the other end of the line. "I won't give you more money, Ziva, if that's what you're after. Someone's got to put you in your place."

Tony realised who it was. It was Ziva's manager, coming to confront her.

Abandoning all other thought, Tony whipped around and grabbed the man's forearm to stop him from going any closer to the building.

The man, who had a scorpion tattooed on the inside of his wrist, hung up the phone and gave Tony a menacing look. He was taller than Tony. Much taller, with long arms and big, bony fists.

"Don't go up there," Tony warned. "Ziva's done with you."

The man with the scorpion tattoo smirked. "Nobody is _done _with me. Scorpion's girls stick by him." He seemed calm about the situation, like he came across it often; girls trying to escape from him.

"Well, _Scorpion, _she's not one of your girls anymore," Tony spat.

"You know, I don't appreciate my best dancer being taken from me," Scorpion said, and pushed up his sleeve. In a second, he swung for Tony's face, but he ducked just in time. Scorpion delivered a knee to Tony's stomach and he fell to his knees in pain, where Scorpion landed a punch to the eye and kicked him in the ribs. His long fingers curled around Tony's forearm.

"You wanna try that again?" Scorpion whispered sinisterly. Tony was fuming but he stayed silent. He was even more furious with himself than ever. "Now, go tell Ziva deary to buzz you in, will you? I have a feeling she won't want me up there. And just in case you get any ideas. . ." Scorpion pulled out a small gun. Small, but deadly.

Tony struggled to his feet, biting back endless amounts of curse words. He thought of telling Scorpion that he was a cop, but on second thought, that'd probably increase the likelihood of him actually getting shot. He pressed the button and heard the buzzer.

"Ziva, it's me," he said, waves of guilt crashing over him. He didn't want to lie to her, but this guy was holding a gun and could physically overpower him –what choice did he have? "Would you buzz me in."

"Now is not the best time, Tony," she said from her end of the line, her voice crackly through the old speakers.

Scorpion jabbed him with the barrel of the gun, ensuring that he persist.

"Please, Ziva, it's important."

The door opened for them.

...

Ziva heard three slow, deliberate knocks at her door, and got to her feet.

"Tony, I. . . " she began to say, but stopped when she saw his face, swollen and bruise and bleeding from the cut from Scorpion's signet ring. His eyes, though, they looked almost apologetic. Like he had done something wrong. "What happened to your face?" she reached out to touch it, but then Tony was shoved aside and Scorpion pushed his way past both of them. Ziva let out a gasp. He still held the gun.

"I found your boyfriend outside," he said. "He was trying to protect you."

Ziva said nothing. She was paralysed with fear.

"But you don't need protecting, do you Ziva?" His voice was heavy with threatening tone. "I'd hate to think you'd been ignoring my calls. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."

He sounded calm but the vein in his forehead was visibly throbbing and his fists were clenched again. Tony didn't know what to do. If she said the wrong thing he could kill her.

Still, Ziva said nothing. That was probably just as dangerous.

Suddenly, Scorpion extended his arm and grabbed her wrist and twisted and she yelped in pain.

"GET OFF HER!" Tony yelled, but the gun was still held towards him, cocked and loaded. He couldn't move.

"ANSWER ME," Scorpion demanded with incredible domination.

"It was a misunderstanding!" Ziva cried, giving in, tears streaming down her face from the pain. Tony couldn't hide his disappointment, and Ziva looked at him with pleading eyes as she clutched her wrist.

Scorpion stepped back, looking somewhat satisfied. "I'm glad. I'll see you tonight then."

She looked utterly torn and defeated. Her hair fell in front of her eyes as she looked down in complete self-disgust. "A party?" she asked. They were the only words she seemed to be able to get out.

"Nope," he replied. "My place. You'll pay for this one. And, if I were you, I'd show, otherwise your boyfriend here will have more to account for than a black eye."

Terror ripped through Ziva. She had never realised how bad this situation truly was until she'd tried to get out of it. And now, she was well and truly stuck.

Footsteps sounded down the hall and Scorpion stuffed his gun into his jacket. "Don't go anywhere, pretty boy," he told Tony.

Tali appeared in the doorway. "Hi, Ziva," she said before stopping and staring at the room, more crowded than usual. She focused mostly on Scorpion, whose dark eyebrows and high cheekbones and pointy chin gave him a very unpleasant appearance.

"Who are you?" Tali asked, looking uncertain.

Scorpion gave Ziva a look, instructing her to stay where she was. He then bent down on one knee in front of Tali. "Hello, deary," he said in a dark, slick voice. Tony felt like he was going to be sick.

"Grab her," Ziva whispered to Tony.

"What?"

"Grab. Her. Now."

Tony pulled Tali out of the way just in time for Ziva to kick Scorpion in the back with her heels. He let out a yell and rolled over, but she was too quick. She kicked his gun out of his hand and it tumbled across the carpet.

"DON'T TOUCH MY SISTER!" Ziva screamed as she threw punches to his chest, liberating herself, finally. For every hit he'd taken on her, she was returning one.

"Ziva, stop!" Tony called, coming up behind her and seizing her arms. She spun around to try and push him away but their eyes locked and she realised just what she was doing. She looked over Tony's shoulder at Tali, who was cowering on the far side of the room.

"He was a bad man, Talia," she tried to explain. "And he will not see us again. I am so sorry that you saw that."

Tali just shook her head and disappeared into her bedroom.

"What am I going to do?" Ziva asked, sounding more hopeless than ever. She fell into his arms and he held her tight until her heart began to slow.

On the floor, Scorpion began to stir. Tony released Ziva, whispering to her to stay still, and retrieved his gun. He removed the bullets before handing it over.

"If you call the cops they will know what you did to me, Stephen. Me and all the other girls," Ziva said, trying to keep a steady voice.

"Don't think about coming back here, Scorpion," Tony said. "She's finished."

Scorpion wiped his mouth, blood smudging across his cheek. "You're damn right she's finished." He reached for his flask and staggered out the door, which Tony shut and locked behind him.

"He's not gonna come back, Ziva. It's over now."

Tears threatened to escape Ziva's eyes again and she nodded, wrapping her arms around him again and turning her head away from the light. He gently stroked her hair.

"You can stop fighting."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 –

They let Scorpion get out the door before Tony got on the phone to Danny and had a team sent out to retrieve him. Tali had disappeared into her bedroom, though. And Tony's wounds were still pretty bad.

Ziva ghosted her fingers over the bruise and cut on his eye and he winced, shying away. She tusked in concern and ran over to the freezer to fetch him something frozen to ease the pain, as well as a few painkillers and a glass of water. Tony took a seat on her sofa and held a packet of frozen oven fries to his head.

"You never told me you could fight like that," he said with a smile. It was meant to be a compliment, but her face only showed shame. Shame that Tali had seen her behave so wildly and with so much raw anger and vengeance. But vengeance was one of those things that took control of you completely if it was strong enough. "I suppose I should watch myself around you, then." He was still trying to lighten the mood. This whole time he'd striven only to make her happy. She had a good shot at this job and finally, Scorpion was out of the picture. For _good_. She ought to be smiling. Unfortunately for Ziva, in her life it was hard to find the time. Fate was never kind for long enough.

The thing about fate is that it plays favourites.

"I'm not proud of it, you know," Ziva said. "I don't pride myself upon being able to beat up another person. Pain is not something I want to be responsible for."

"Ziva, you can't possibly take the blame for this. Scorpion's the biggest scumbag I've come across in a long time. He deserved every punch you threw."

"But I should not have thrown so many. Violence was only a safety precaution in the first place. The fact that I threw punches for the sake of throwing them was not moral of me. It does not matter how bad he is – an eye for an eye makes the world blind, Tony. My father never listened to that and I am sure that is one of the biggest reasons why he was killed in the first place."

"Your father?" She had not spoken much about him.

"Eli David. My Abba was . . . not a nice man. He chased men down with an insatiable thirst for vengeance and I had never, ever hoped to follow in that man's footsteps."

"He's your dad, though. I mean, he was."

"You must understand. Surely your parents have shortcomings. Or, had them."

"My mom died when I was a kid; I never really understood her. There were bad days but there were some good ones too. My dad, though, the guy couldn't hold down a marriage for more than five minutes. Does it ever make you worry, I mean, someday you might do something like that to one of your own kids?"

"I had never thought about having them."

Tony frowned. "Really?"

"Since I became Tali's legal guardian I haven't been able to think more than a day ahead. But, maybe. Someday."

"Ah yes, the inevitable 'someday'. Never seems to arrive for some people."

"It will," she said, sounding almost like a promise.

"Well, I hope I'd be a better dad than _my _dad. Kinda messed me up, to be honest."

She reached up to touch the frozen package, checking it was still cold, and stroked his hair. "You do not seem that messed up to me."

"Well, for the record, neither do you."

She smiled briefly, but scoffed.

"Throwing a couple of indulgent punches doesn't make you a bad person, Ziva," he told her. What you did, you did in defence of your little sister. You're her guardian. You take any necessary precautions."

She nodded, but still seemed unconvinced. "What should I even say to her? After all that. She looked like she was terrified of me, Tony. I couldn't bear for her to feel like that."

He stroked her arm softly. "Maybe I should talk to her."

...

Tali sat on her twin bed, holding a very well-loved stuffed dog that had clearly once been white but was now a worn crème colour, and had clearly been sitting on a shelf for quite some time.

In her other hand, Tali held a book, like she always did. Tony took a second to look at this kid and wonder why fate had been so cruel to her. Tali saw things in people that most her age couldn't, and yet she looked at the world with naivety sometimes. She had looked shocked when Ziva had started throwing punches, as if in that moment she had realised that yes, even seemingly flawless people like her big sister can have flaws. They have the capability to be very terrifying people.

Tony remembered the moment he had discovered this about his father. A September afternoon, when he was nearly nine years old. A few too many drinks had been consumed, and Tony supposed trying to search his father's study for his baseball mitt had been the tipping point. Enough said.

"Hey," he said, sitting beside her on the bed. "Whatcha reading?"

She didn't move her eyes. She instead just held up the book. It was a thin book titled, _Hana's Suitcase._

"What's it about?"

"A little girl and her family in the Second World War and how the Nazis came and invaded them because they were Jewish."

Tony bit his lip, staring at the Star of David pendant hanging around her neck, a mirror image of Ziva's. "You know, that guy, before, he was a really bad person. And he hurt your sister in a lot of ways, both physically and—"

"You don't have to patronise me, Tony." Her eyes still did not move from the pages and Tony was a little taken aback at her forwardness. "I know he was a bad person. I know Ziva did that to protect me."

"But?" he pushed.

She finally set the book down. "But it was strange, that's all. She was just really angry and I've never seen like that before. Even after Ima died, she . . . she did not act like that. It's just something I didn't know she could _do_. But I guess there are a lot of things I don't know about Ziva."

"Think about what you do know, though. She loves you more than anything in the world and she risked her own happiness to take care of you. That's nothing to feel guilty for, you should be proud. Proud that you have a person in your life that loves you as much as she does. What I'd give for one of those."

"You don't have any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope. Only child."

Tali shrugged and looked back to her book.

"Let her know that you're okay. She's worried about you."

"Okay."

There seemed to be little more that he could say to her, so he stood up and started out the door. He had to get back to the office before they started hunting for him.

"Tony?" she said, and he stopped in the doorway. "You won't hurt Ziva, will you? Like he did?"

"Not in a million years, kiddo," he said reassuringly, giving her a warm smile, which she gladly returned to him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 –

Tuesday morning rolled around and Ziva woke up with a strange feeling in the pits of her stomach. It was daylight outside, just on 7:15 am. Fifteen minutes before she absolutely had to get up.

It was this strange gut feeling that maybe today wouldn't be awful. Scorpion was gone from their lives. There were no men for her to dance for anymore, there were no more people to tell her she was a worthless human designed solely for pleasure. She need no longer look into the mirror and despise the woman she saw because she was not setting a good example by her little sister. It was a new chapter. And maybe not even that. Maybe a whole new book.

Ziva could not change who she was inside, but the outside could be utterly new. The way people looked at her in the street would be refreshing. They would see a confident young woman, one who was going places. Places. Places that were light and full of civil people.

There was a certain . . . wildness to Ziva, though. The curls and the eyes and years of running through rows tall olive trees shading her from the Israel sun. A part, albeit a very small part but a part nonetheless, would miss the feeling of stepping into the room and reducing a man to awe without a word. Something about that feeling made the adrenaline course through her like nothing else. She had said it before, her hips told people stories. They evoked raw human emotion. They allowed her to hold a certain power over people – _strangers_ –that she never had felt before. A girl with no voice can still dance and be heard.

But, she knew, she had been heard selectively all these years. You know, in the kind of way where if, on the news, someone says there has been a murder on the other side of the country, you listen, but if it's a murder in your neighbourhood, you panic. How Ziva felt other than 'sexy' as some kind of emotion did not matter to these men. If it did not benefit them (or, more, their egos) then they would rather not listen.

Tony was one of the first people to ever break that cycle. And he was the only one that had stuck around so long. Thinking about this, Ziva reached up and rapped her knuckles against the wooden bed head. She mustn't tempt fate, how easily it was tempted.

She thought of him. She thought of how easy it felt to sink into his arms when he pulled her off of Scorpion. How Tali suddenly brightened up and warmed to Ziva after he had spoken to her. How he gave her a reason to smile in the morning without even meaning to. And most of all she thought of how he had somehow snuck his way into her life, when she had told him from the get-go she did not have time for a Tony DiNozzo.

Things change, though. And when you don't have time, you have to make it yourself.

...

For the second day in a row, Tony kept bugging Raimey about the job. At first it had been the kind of pestering akin to a sugar-high child, but now it was just a stare every time he walked into the room.

10:00 a.m. arrived and Tony was growing impatient. For one, Scorpion had been taken over by another department, since to their knowledge he did not kill anyone, which meant that while he could watch, he couldn't actually interrogate the asshole. (He probably wouldn't have been allowed to anyway, because it would have been too personal, but a guy can dream).

Needless to say, he'd been charged, and he was going to trial soon. So, there was closure there after all. He had been a little worried that Scorpion would be let off and would still be a threat to Ziva but, behind bars, there was little he could do, and with two more girls safer than they were before, he was doing his job right.

Raimey shuffled out of his office again at noon, and looked across the room first, then at the cluster of desks which included Tony and Danny's. He was smirking.

"What's with the face, Major?" Danny asked.

Raimey just rocked on his heels, tucking his thumbs into his pockets.

"Why are you holding off on us? Look if Ziva didn't get the job, then . . . tell her she did a good job at the interview, okay?" Tony said.

Raimey chuckled. "Why don't you tell her yourself?" He cocked his head in the direction of the door, and there was Ziva, as 'bright eyed and bushy-tailed' as he had ever seen _anyone. _Her hair was straight, and she was wearing the same outfit she wore to the interview. He wondered if she did that for sentimentality reasons or if she simply didn't have that many outfits.

It didn't matter. She was here and she was smiling and _oh_, that smile made his heart flip inside his chest in a way that he was not proud of. Her eyes lit up when she walked in, and even under these unflattering fluorescent lights she looked perfect. It was amazing how happy she seemed. He hope to God her happiness would stick around.

And goodness, how glad he was to see her. Once she was close-up, his gaze shifted from her to the Major over and over, as if he was checking to see that he had it right in his head. Eventually, Ziva gave an excited nod and he cheered for her. This was happening. She squeezed his hand, a thank-you in case there wouldn't be time for a proper one. It was subtle, but it was there, and it was enough.

He was so glad for her. He had thought for a doubting minute that maybe he had forced this too much on her and that she was only doing it because he wanted her to, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. While the Ziva he had met at Tim's party and the Ziva he knew today seemed like different people – though perhaps that was just Ziva's lack of facade around people she trusted – her happiness seemed genuine, and she seemed to believe that this truly would be the best thing both for her and for Tali, too.

"Oh, and, uh," he remembered his partner. "This is Danny. The right-hand man."

"Nice to meet you," he said with complete authenticity, reaching out to shake her hand. That made Tony so glad, after his initial apprehension about her.

"Okay, Ziva, just come into my office for a sec, I'll just grab some papers and stuff, and we'll give you a tour."

Tony's head popped up. "Can I do it?" he asked.

"You've got a case to solve, DiNozzo!"

"Right," he said under his breath. "The Case of Tony's Missing Bagels."

**A/N: Don't forget to review, you guys xD**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 –

The following morning, Tali caught the school bus, which stopped conveniently close to their apartment, which Tali found surprising, since she hadn't caught the bus before. When she asked why, Ziva gave some mumbled excuse, but the truth was that driving her just felt safer. Ziva had never been the best driver – anyone who had been in a car with her could tell you that – but sending her little sister on a bus with a stranger had just seemed scary after they had lost their mother. To an eighteen year old kid with no one else, she wouldn't dare put her in danger. No one would be responsible for hurting Tali.

Okay, so this conflicted with the whole 'going out at night, all night' thing. But perhaps she had been making up for her shortcomings in any way that she could. Maybe the urge to drive her sister was also somewhat born out of guilt.

On the nights that she didn't come home until daylight, Tali would always get pancakes for breakfast, though sooner or later, Tali realised a pattern. Ziva remembered one morning, about three years earlier, the first time Scorpion had made her stay at a party all night:

February 27th, 2010:

"There we are, pancakes for my favourite sister," Ziva had said, with all the cheer she could muster in her sleep-deprived state.

"Why did you make these?" the little girl had asked. Even then, she had been keenly observant.

"I thought you deserved a treat."

"I didn't do anything."

"Sometimes," she said, her voice breaking a little. "Sometimes you don't have to." Tali frowned at her.

Tali didn't get it. Or she did. Either way, it was making Ziva feel ill. How could she leave her little sister alone all night? Ziva made fists in the fabric of her shirt, smearing flour everywhere. Her chest felt tight and her mouth dry. She felt tears well up in her eyes and she sat down across the table, willing them to go away.

'Stop it,' she had told herself. 'Stop crying. Not here. Not now. You can't cry here, in front of her. You hold it in. You wait until one of those men has you by the neck or the waist and you scream into his pillow or into his kiss. But you do not cry in front of her, you hear me?'

Ziva thought of the men. Sleazy and vile, every one of them. She had begged the man in charge just to let her dance. She was good at dancing. She could fake a smile through dancing. She never asked for . . .this. This cruel seizing of her liberation and whatever purity that Israel and her father had not stolen from her years ago. Scorpion said she had to build character. All his girls loved to dance, but they never wanted the hard work.

"No one starts at the top," he would say. "You have to earn your hips, darling girl."

She was yet to meet a kind person in the world without her mother. She'd become distanced from her friends and few family members in Israel had called. Their Ima had had very little family left when she died and the people on their father's side were none too fond of her.

And it was all this and more that surfaced the tears that morning. Tali held her hand and stroked her hair and comforted her as best as a nine year old orphan could. But she could not hide the look of pure terror on her face. Ziva had scared Tali that day and it had haunted her ever since.

"Ziva?" the young girl asked as her sister's tears stained her school dress. She didn't hear. "Achot?" she tried again. Ziva looked up. It was Hebrew. Tali barely ever spoke Hebrew anymore. It reminded her of their parents. She had spoken the word 'sister'. And, translated to English, "protector that bonds and impresses".

Protector. Tears would not protect Tali. It was likely that very little in Ziva's power actually would. Ziva had learned of the inevitability of human mortality very early in life; they both had. But even still, Tali made Ziva stop crying.

Ziva lifted a hand to the girl's rosy cheek and touched her characteristically messy curls. "Why don't you eat your pancakes, little one, before they go cold?"

Tali ran her fingers along the edges of the plates, hesitating, and eventually pushing towards Ziva.

"I think you should have them."

"I made them for you."

"You deserve it."

Ziva engulfed Tali in a hug, and by the time she let her go, the pancakes had gone cold.

...

Ziva made pancakes for the two of them that morning, determined to rid them of their negative connotations.

"We have to eat them in good spirits, Talia," she explained.

"But why? Can't I just have cereal?"

"No," Ziva insisted. "This is not a bad thing, today. I am going to work and I'm going to come home later but I will be home all night. And every night from now on. I am doing this for you. For both of us."

"What about Tony?"

Ziva frowned. "What _about_ Tony?"

"Didn't you do this for him, too?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because," Tali answered. "He works where you're working and he's the one that tried to get you the job in the first place."

Ziva shook her head. "I know he did, and I am very, very grateful to him but this is not about him, tateleh, this is about you and me. We are a family, and I won't have it being a broken family anymore. I want to be honest and for everything to be normal for you."

Tali paused in thought, and then said, "If we're being honest, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she answered calmly, but she was scared of what she might have to face. She could not lie to Tali.

"Where was it that you went at night? Where did you go that you're so afraid of going now?"

Ziva cleared her throat. She bent down so that she and Tali were at eye level and placed her hands firmly on her shoulders. "The man in here, last week? The bad man? He would pay me to go to parties and dance for them and to . . .they were not always kind, Tali, you must understand that."

"Were any of them kind?"

"If I was lucky, they were at least civil, but there was one man who was," she smiled and laughed softly. "He was lovely to me. Right from the beginning. From the second I looked in his eyes I knew he was different than the others. It took me a long while and a lot of persistence on his part to figure out why."

"Was it Tony?"

"Yes, Tali. Happy now?"

"One more question."

Ziva sighed, though she wasn't really exasperated with her sister. "Yes?"

"Do you like him?"

"Do I like him?"

"You know what I mean. As more than a friend."

Ziva's smile faded, and she moved her mouth wordlessly for a few seconds. Eventually, she swallowed, placed a hand on Tali's back and told her kindly to eat her pancakes. Tali just chuckled to herself.

"What? I didn't say 'yes'," said Ziva.

"You didn't say 'no' either."

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates, I've been really busy. Please review :D**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 –

Ziva's first week at Baltimore PD went almost completely without a hitch. Tali caught the school bus to and from school, and by the time Ziva was home from work, she'd finished her homework and the two of them would watch movies (recommended by Tony, as he was quite the movie buff) or play games or just spend time together. Having that time was nice, and for both of them, made them appreciate the other more than they ever did.

At work, Ziva was confident and friendly and she picked up new tasks in an instant. Raimey and a lot of other guys in the office seemed to take a shine to her very quickly. Tony suspected that in the case of the men other than Raimey, it was for different reasons than her work, but even if she wasn't as beautiful as she was, she'd be able to charm these men. She just had a way with people.

On Tuesday afternoon they had a new case, and Danny, Tony and a few others were sent out to the scene of a murder downtown. As Tony hurried for the doors, grabbing his coat and trailing it behind him, Ziva smiled at him. This was the first time she'd been in the office without him or Danny, though, and it made her feel a little unsettled.

It was truly remarkable the way just him being there could calm her nerves. If she had gotten a job anywhere else she may not have done as well as she had this past week. Tony brought with him a certain sense of familiarity, and made her remember that sometimes strangers can be trusted. Years of doing what she did had taught her precisely the opposite. She tended to shy away from people she did not know, which was why she rarely saw anyone. She had learned to falsely believe that she had little to offer other than what she was paid to offer, and anyone who showed interest in her showed it only for those reasons. Of course, Tony broke that pattern, and God, she was thankful for that.

...

"It's five minutes to five," Tony said at 4:55 that Friday afternoon. He tapped his pencil against the edge of his desk and a grin spread across his face. "You know what that means? Huh?" He was directing his question at Danny, but his partner ignored his antics. Tony looked to Ziva hopefully, but she just shrugged and laughed. "People!" he exclaimed. "Five minutes to five means five minutes to the weekend! Which means we can all start relaxing, because we aren't booked tomorrow."

Tony reached for a bag of chips on his desk but Ziva snatched them off him, taking one for herself.

"Hey!" he whined.

"You've eaten almost all of them. It's not healthy," she told him.

"Do I need to bring out the muscles I have? The six-pack? The pecs? Or do you think you won't be able to resist me?"

She laughed loudly, quickly covering her mouth when she realised just how loudly, but it was a glorious sound to hear while it lasted.

The man whose desk was across from Tony's had called in sick, so Ziva happily took up residence leaning against it while the two of them (and Danny, sort of) counted down to the end of the day. When five o'clock hit, Tony threw his arms in the air like New Year's.

"I think we should celebrate!" he said to Ziva.

"Celebrate what?"

"Well, your first week here, for one," he suggested. "Plus, it's Sleep-In Saturday tomorrow. What's _not _to celebrate?"

"Actually, a few of the others are going out for drinks and they invited me to go with them. Bruce, and Kaitlyn and Robert, I think his name is."

"What about Tali?" he asked, suddenly solemn.

"She is staying at a friend's tonight."

"Oh," he said simply. "Well, I guess I'll see you 'round."

He looked disappointed, and she immediately felt guilty. She called out his name and he turned around, but she realised there was nothing she could say that would help the situation, so she just said, "Bye" and watched him leave. She felt bad. Quickly, she picked up the staff file from Raimey's desk and looked up Tony's address, scribbling it onto her palm. She decided she'd send him a pizza or something – to make up for the lack of 'celebration' on her part. Then she said goodbye to Danny and left.

...

The pizza box was sitting on his coffee table, empty, when there was a knock at the door. Tony frowned and paused his movie, which he'd stopped paying attention to, honestly. It was late and raining. There was only one person that would turn up at this hour, even if she'd never been before.

He opened the door to Ziva, none other. The pants and blouse he had seen her in hours earlier at work were soaked and her once perfect curls were dishevelled. Her nose and cheeks were red from the cold. Mascara marked her cheeks.

"Hey," he said, for lack of something better.

Her lips disappeared into a thin line and she rocked on her heels for a moment, as if hesitating to cross the threshold. "Hi," she said, her voice cracking. He squinted and studied her features carefully. The way she stood, the way her face moved. She stood straight upright with her heels militarily together, like a false conveyance of strength. Her jaw was tight but her lips trembled. Her eyes were red, too. She'd been crying.

"Ziva," he whispered, letting himself reach out and grab her hand, pulling her into the apartment. "What happened?"

"We were out at a bar, me and a bunch and of the others, and when they all left, one of the men asked me if I'd like to stay and if I'd let him buy me a drink."

"Which guy?"

"I don't remember," she admitted, shaking her head hopelessly. "He's tall, with dark hair and . . ." She swallowed. "That does not matter. I let him buy me a drink and then he said that he was sure he knew me from somewhere. And it clicked; I remembered him immediately. I asked him if he had a best friend named Dave and he said yes. He got married the year before last."

"He was a client?"

"Yes, he was. And he told me his apartment was around the corner, and asked if I would like a cup of coffee. So I said yes, and we got to the door and . . ."

"And?" he prompted.

Ziva stared at the floor. "He got out his wallet, Tony."

Tony felt his heart stop, he was sure of it. "Oh, Ziva."

"I do not _do that,_" she told him. "I want you to know that. I do not sell myself for sex. Not since the beginning."

"It wouldn't matter if you did. You'd still have intrigued me the first time we'd met. You'd still have fallen on your ankle and I would've had to carry you up the stairs. I still would have helped you get that job at the PD."

"I know, but . . .after I left, I had the strangest feeling. Maybe that all I'm destined to do is dance for these men. The Universe seems to be telling me these things and it seems hard to argue."

"You don't have to do any of that, Ziva."

"But maybe it is what I am supposed to do, Tony. Maybe it is my purpose. Maybe I cannot be anything more than just that."

"You can be anything you want, Ziva. Don't try to convince yourself that you're any less amazing because one asshole ruined your night."

She sighed.

"Change is hard. I get it. Your old job was tough and demeaning but you were _good_. And it paid the bills. It gave you something constant. But I promise you're in a better place now, okay?" He held her forearms, and she nodded. That was what she had needed. That was the assurance that always made him feel better. "Come on, I'll put on a movie. We can watch it together. It'll calm you down."

"Actually, I think I will take a walk. I need to clear my head."

"In the rain?"

"A little rain never hurt anybody," she countered, with the slightest hint of hope in her voice. She went to leave, but he called after her, like she'd done at the office the other day. She turned around to face him and slowly he paced towards her. Something inside him made him move his fingers came to her chin and held it up gently as he pressed the softest possible kiss to her lips. He felt her sharp intake of breath. She reached for the bottom of his shirt for a split second but once she found it she pushed against his chest.

Their eyes were locked. Her hands were still against him.

"I have to go," she whispered, looking at him. "I'm sorry, I just . . .sorry."

She pulled away from him and he immediately felt the loss. She stepped through the doorway and looked back at him. Her eyes were teary again. He whispered her name but she closed the door with little more than the sound of the clicking of the handle as it shut and footsteps down the hall.

He wasn't angry with her, just confused. Because, for a second, he could have sworn she was kissing him back.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16—

Ziva wrapped her arms around herself to hide away from the cold. She wore only a thin blouse and the rain was icy, accompanied by a wicked wind that made her hair fly about. Her normally soft skin erupted in gooseflesh and her lips trembled.

She tried to run across the parking lot beneath Tony's building but her heels slipped on the wet gravel and she fell, cutting her hands as she tried to save herself. She pulled herself up and kept running, and she did not stop until she made it to her car. In the dark, she fumbled for the keys and ran her fingers over the rusty paintwork of the old car until she found the lock and then the ignition.

Once she could hear the sound of rain against the windshield, it seemed heavier somehow. She blasted the heating and warmed her hands before bracing them on the wheel and driving toward home.

No matter how warm she became, her lips still trembled, and soon she began to feel like it maybe had less to do with the rain and more to do with him.

It was cliché but honestly, the whole thing was a blur in her head. The night had somehow turned from good to bad to just plain confusing. Of all the men that had wanted to kiss her, she never suspected Tony.

But of course he did, she thought to herself. Why else would he buy her groceries, help her turn her life around? Why else other than to kiss her and to have her with no nagging morals? He'd done his part, now she would do hers. In return. Like a bargain. A payment. A transaction that would make neither of them better than the people they were weeks ago before they knew each other.

But that did not seem like the Tony she had come to know. Wouldn't he have done something before now, had he wanted her so badly? Ziva gripped the steering wheel harder and her knuckles began to turn white. Could it be that he'd kissed her for a reason other than physical gratification? Was she missing something?

What had she overlooked in these past few weeks?

The way he smiled at her across the office, every time she stepped into the room. The way he looked at her when she was concentrating on doing something and she'd catch him and laugh it off, never suspecting anything. The way he gave her gentle little touches as he walked past her, and then was so rough and boyish with the men. And oh, everything behind those looks and touches he'd kept hidden from her. Until tonight, when he had seen no better consolation than to press his lips to hers in a desperate attempt to fulfil her need for self-worth, and to tell her that, yes, she was special and she was wholly and completely worth the heartbreak.

And as perfect as that all sounded, it was entirely unbelievable, and Ziva sighed to herself as she realised this.

It sounded almost like one of those movies that he liked so much. It couldn't possibly be true, could it? It reminded her of La Traviata, an opera that she quite liked, about a man who falls in love with a courtesan named Violetta.

But her life was not an opera, nor a movie, and despite her logic, Ziva had a hard time believing that Tony would have real feelings for her. She had never met anyone who had before. She had never tried to. Was it possible that his heart was fuelling his actions? Surely not. Ziva David did not fuel anything in a man's heart – rather, in another part of his anatomy.

Oh, but that kiss. That sweet, sweet kiss. She had never been kissed like that in her entire life. Her father used to peck her forehead when she was small. Scorpion was rough with her and she would have to fight to breathe. Other men had been the same. But Tony . . . well, he was different in the way he kissed like he was different from them in every other way. And he was different in the best possible way. That was not the kiss of a man who wanted nothing more than satisfaction out of her.

Tony DiNozzo had kissed her, and quite frankly, she'd felt pleasure that was foreign to her in that moment. Pleasure and ecstasy and safety and yet, she had pulled away from him. She had pulled away, and here she was in her car, driving through a storm to get away from him when there was a part of her brain telling her, _go back. Lay in his arms. Let him hold you. Let him love you._

And yes, God yes, she wanted to but still she told herself no. There was a reason for that. She'd learned by now that affairs of the heart and affairs of the body were things that could became awfully muddled, and frighteningly fast. And even when they don't, nothing seems to stand the murderous test of time. Even if she did give herself over there was too much of a chance that it would end in heartbreak – emotional instability worse than what she already had was something that would do her no good in looking after Tali. And Tali was her first priority.

That alone was another reason for her to keep driving. No lover, no special person like him deserves to be second in the life of someone they love. Eventually, enough would be had and they . . . _he _would grow tired of coming second.

Maybe what she had told him that night weeks ago, when they had first met, maybe that had been true. Maybe there was no time for Tony after all. She had believed that his intentions had changed from what she thought them to be since that very first night, but perhaps not. How ever loving and sweet he was, that did not change the fact that what she said had been true.

Or maybe she just didn't believe she was good enough for him. She couldn't give him stability in any way, especially emotionally. She had a little person to take care of. She had serious baggage. Surely he would do better loving someone else? Someone that was just . . .better?

Oh. That was why she had pulled away from him.

Things became blurrier. Lights passed over her as she drove along the empty streets. The windshield wipers kept perfectly in time. A U2 song came on the radio. And Tony had kissed her. And for now, she was unsure where to go.

She went into the basement of her apartment building. It was a room that's small and more rundown than the rest of the building, which is saying something. The walls were an unsettling tan colour, and it was lit by a single light bulb. Worn, thin, floorboards were walked upon to reach a small sofa, a few untouched boxes full of valueless items, and a piano. Its ivory keys were yellowing and it was dusty, and its sound was distorted, but it was still music. And when she was the most shaken up, music helped her settle down.

For a while, she just caressed the keys with little thought to how they sounded. Chords rang through the little room and the sound alone was enough for her mind to stop racing. She stayed there for hours, losingherself in the sound. But every so often she would look over her shoulder at the door. No one stood there. No one turned the handle. There was no sound of a knock.

And even after telling herself that that she mustn't, a small part of her still wanted to go back to him.

_..._

He didn't go after her. How could he? After that?

Distance would be safest, he assured himself. Though clearly he was not very persuasive, because he did not, and could not, stay away for very long.

_..._

She didn't want to go to work on Monday. She had to, but she didn't want to.

It was not that she didn't want to see Tony, it was that she didn't want to have to dread seeing him. And she did. Too much for her own liking. She wanted to see the Tony that hadn't tipped them overboard into a sea of uncertainty and confusion and feelings. She wanted to see the grocery man; the man who cooked for them. The man that had seemed a dream.

And with a sigh she noted that he was not any less of a dream now, apart from the fact that such an intimate touch had scared her into reality. She had been running around with this man for weeks and somehow convinced herself that he was a Prince Charming when he was really only human? He was a sweet, compassionate, giving human, but a human nonetheless. And humans, Ziva knew, were complicated.

She pulled the cover over her face in frustration. She felt inconceivably torn. All the parts of her mind that she had ignored for years – the ones that encouraged the likes of pleasure and companionship – were screaming at her. And yet she kept telling herself that she had been right to walk away. She kept telling herself to stay standing and not to fall, because after a kiss like that and a sleepless night, it would be so unbelievably easy.

Her train of thought disappeared when she heard footsteps behind her.

...

Tony cursed himself as he took the turn to Ziva's apartment instead of the Police Department. She wouldn't be at work yet – he was much too early. They hadn't spoken in two days and it was freaking him out. He had to see her. He had to fix things between them, if it killed him.

In his Mustang, Tony passed Tali on her way to the bus stop.

"Hey, kiddo," he said with melancholy feeling. He reminded him of Ziva a lot. "How's it going?"

"Okay," Tali answered, her grip tightening on the straps of her backpack.

"You want a ride to school?"

"No, thanks. But can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did you and Ziva have a fight? She's been really quiet and weird all weekend and I was just wondering."

"Well, not exactly, but I guess it's something that needs fixing."

Tali looked at the cracks in the pavement beneath her feet. "I think Ziva needs a lot of fixing, Tony. Can you do it?"

"Your sister doesn't need fixing, sweetie. It's just what happened between us that does," Tony assured her. He hated the idea that Ziva thought she might need fixing.

"Well, can you fix that?"

"I'm gonna try my best."

Tali looked unsure.

"I had a friend, Tali, who was really good at fixing stuff. He was good with wood, too. He could build almost anything, and most nights that was what he did. But what's more important is that he always knew exactly what to say, and he meant it."

"What happened to him?"

"Nothing, far as I know. We just don't talk much anymore."

"You should," Tali said. "Maybe he can help you fix things with Ziva."

"You seem pretty keen for that to happen," he commented, bending down a little. "There a reason for that?"

Tali thought about his question for a moment. "I like you, Tony. And . . . you're one of the first people to stick around us this long. I have Ziva to stick around for me, but I think she needs someone to stick around for her. I don't think she thinks anybody will."

"Yeah," he sighed, and then remembered that he was talking to a twelve year old. "How'd you get so smart, anyway?

She just laughed and said that she had to go or else she would miss her bus.

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far. Keep them coming, please! Also, if you want to hear the piano music that fits with that scene, then go to my tumblr (cotederpablo) and you will find it in the post of this chapter under my fanfiction tag in my sidebar. (:**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 –

The walk to the bus stop seemed long than normal. Like the street was just an endless expansion of pavement. But Tali pressed on, ignoring her aching legs and her spinning thoughts.

In truth, she was worried about Ziva. She usually was. For a girl of twelve, Tali had spent many nights worrying about her sister, not sleeping, not wanting to eat. And it wasn't like the young girl couldn't hold her own, because she could. She was not worried of being without Ziva, but she worried for Ziva when they were apart.

For some reason, Ziva had taken the death of her mother much harder than she had. The loss of a parent is always hard, but for some reason, for Ziva, it was harder. Tali had speculated on many occasions that maybe it was the stress of having to be a guardian, or not being able to graduate, or anxiety, or whether Ziva had simply been closer to their mother (Tali doubted that, though. Their mother, though a carer to them both, had never possessed the ability to understand the two of them the way they understood each other).

When Tony had made himself present on the scene, Tali was thankful. Maybe now there would be someone else around to do the worrying, and she could have a shot at being a normal kid. As normal as a bi-lingual Jewish orphan kid can be. Or maybe Tony could even eradicate the reasons to worry in the first place.

A girl could dream.

...

"What is it, tateleh?" Ziva mumbled, thinking Tali was at her door. Sleep seemed so very appealing and she didn't want to be woken.

"Actually, it's me," Tony said, in the gentlest voice possible. Coming here had been a risky move. He hadn't known she'd still be in bed, but they couldn't very well go to work in such states of confusion and they certainly couldn't talk _there_.

Ziva immediately rolled over and sat up. She moved so quickly that her head spun a little, but she ignored it. She squinted as sunlight from the window beamed into her eyes. "Where is Tali?"

"She's gone to the bus stop. Don't worry, she's okay. She just left a little early," he told her.

She nodded, considering the situation 'assessed', and then her mind was able to shift onto matters of her own. "What are you doing here?"

He took a seat on the corner of her bed and she pulled the covers up over her chest, feeling oddly exposed, which was ironic considering the way they met. "I wasn't sure if you were gonna come in today."

"So you decided to invade my bedroom?" He forced down a smile – sleepy Ziva was reminiscent of the sly, sharp girl he'd met weeks ago.

"I couldn't just leave you. Not after Friday night. After the way you felt. After that guy tried to pay you. I can't understand how you must've felt."

"Awful," she told him. "I felt awful."

"Yeah," he gulped. "And you just have to know that you're worth so much more than whatever he can give you. More than money. You're better."

"But what if I'm not?" she asked. "What if I am no better than what I was? Someone who sells themselves?"

"Ziva, there's no shame in what you did, and your motives were real and right."

Ziva felt her chest tighten up. She could recognise truth in his words but every second he spent talking made her feel terrified of what she was.

"You want to talk," she said. "Or are you just going to ignore the big hippopotamus in the room?"

He chuckled. "'Elephant.'"

"What?"

"It's an 'elephant in the room'."

She swallowed and swept a stray curl from her eyes, and said very quietly, "In Hebrew, the word is _l'nashek_."

"For 'elephant'?"

"No," she whispered. "It is Hebrew for 'to kiss'. And you kissed me."

He gave a sigh. "Yeah." He sounded calm, but inside he was terrified. "And you left."

She frowned. "Are you blaming me?"

"No," he answered simply. It was the truth.

"Why did you do it?" she whispered, looking hurt as she felt. "I don't understand. I thought that you . . . wanted to help me, and that you were not like them."

"I'm not!" he defended himself.

"Then why did you do it?"

"Do you really think that little of me that I'd kiss you just because I was like _them? _For the sake of pleasure or fun? Because I just felt like it? Or to assert dominance over you?"

"I don't think little of you, Tony," she told him, her hands clenching the comforter. It was still wrapped around her.

"Then," he reached out and touched her arm. "Why do _you_ think I did it?"

She didn't move away from his touch, she welcomed it, and in a moment of bliss she let herself be lost in the feeling of his fingers trailing pathways down her arm. Feelings from the night before came rushing back, and the voices that had been calling for her to go to him were louder and clearer than before.

And then his touch left her.

"I'm not going to pretend," he said. "That I haven't the best part of a month wanting to kiss you, Ziva. And I'm not going to pretend that it didn't hurt when you walked out that door. But you mean more to me than my feelings, so if you want me to pretend that they don't exist then that's what I'll do. Say the word."

She said nothing, and he got up to leave, feeling that little more could be said.

"Feelings?" she called, and he turned around.

"Don't pretend like you didn't notice it," he told her with a crooked smile. Crooked smiles are the best kind.

"You shouldn't have feelings for me," she told him, shaking her head. "It's impractical, to say the least."

"When is the heart ever practical?"

"Rarely," she answered, her eyes welling up a little. "But it is still not a good idea."

"Tell me why."

"Do you remember when we met, and I told you I didn't have time for you?"

"Vaguely," he answered.

"You basically ignored me. But I told you that because I meant it. Anyone who even shows a little interest has to know that they can never be my first priority. It does not work. And even then, you deserve someone better than me." She looked strangely small at that moment, like she wanted to disappear. God, how he wished he could make her know how much she was worth.

He walked back over to the bed and kneeled beside it. "Everyone deserves to love someone, Ziva."

She choked up. "Love?" she whispered, her voice barely there at all.

He bit his lip at his slip of the tongue. "Can we pretend I didn't say that?" he asked with a bashful smile.

Ziva's heart was pounding in her chest and a grin began to spread across her face. She reached over and cupped his cheek in her small hands. "No," she told him. "We can't."

And she closed the gap between them. Their lips crashed together and he reached up to hold her waist. But he didn't push her. He would be perfectly content to kiss her forever. Her hands were soft against his stubbly cheek and he felt her smile against his lips as his other hand intertwined in her hair. It was the closest thing to perfect he had ever felt, and all from the feelings a woman who believed she was too flawed could inflict.

They parted, both trying to control their breathing. Their foreheads touched. She took both of his hands in her own.

"Stay," she whispered, sounding less like an order and more like a plea.

"Work," he replied, afraid he would not be able to say anything more complex. She groaned, and he laughed softly. She laughed, too, eventually.

"That's why," he told her, standing.

"That's why what?"

"That's why I kissed you." He ran his thumb across your cheek. "You're so beautiful, Ziva, but I didn't kiss you for that." His hand ran down her neck and stopped beneath her collarbone. "You have the most amazing heart, Ziva. And I've never seen someone with such an ability to love be so afraid of it. But I'm not them – and I'll prove that to you if you'll let me."

"You already have," she assured him, looking up with her big brown eyes. Tears threatened to fall and she let them for once, and he caught them. He had caught her. And it felt so good to let herself fall for once.

"We've really gotta go," he said, the regret audible in his voice. "You want me to wait?"

"No," she said. "I will see you there."

And with little more than a nod he was gone, and Ziva felt her heart pounding inside her ribcage. She had kissed him this time, and realised with more clarity than ever that kissing a person did not change them, and that the Tony who left that morning was the same man that bought the groceries and cooked and organised job interviews. After making her feel like he did when they kissed, loving her was really just another favour.

And Ziva was sure it was her favourite.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18—

The atmosphere of the office felt totally different when Ziva walked in, just fifteen minutes after Tony. She had left her curls free today, with just a touch of bed-head.

Tony struggled to retain focus on his paperwork. Every time he caught sight of her he thought of that morning and he thought of how she had kissed him and how they'd taken this plunge into dangerously alluring territory and how he didn't even care. Finally, he'd be able to give her the sense of purpose and self-esteem that she deserved. But more than that, he'd be allowed to love her. That alone gave him a thrill unlike any other.

It was a pleasure just to be allowed to love somebody like Ziva.

She walked past the boys' desks to her own, which had recently been freed up due to the loss of an officer. Despite being _his _office assistant, Major Raimey had allowed for Ziva to move out into the main area with everyone else, saying something like, "A young thing like you doesn't deserve to be cooped up in a little room all day." She had been thrilled and was now situated across from Danny and Tony.

_Look at me, _she thought for a second. _I have a desk. I have a phone. I have files and folders. This is good. This is progress._

But her thoughts of professionalism were quickly swept away when she caught Tony's eyes on her. She felt her cheeks go a fiery shade of red but she smiled.

"Morning, Officer DiNozzo," she said in a voice that was suddenly sultry. She turned to the other man. "Danny."

"He gets an 'Officer' and I don't?" Danny whined, but he was kidding. He often joked with her in the way that constituted a friendly relationship between co-workers. It was nice to have one of those.

"Sorry," she replied, not giving him one, and not taking her eyes off of Tony. She was about to say something else, though, when the Major poked his head out and called for Ziva to come and collect a few piles of things that needed filing.

"What is going on with you two this morning, Tony?" Danny asked. "Did you finally seal the deal?"

Tony coolly clicked his tongue and his fingers kept tapping away at his keyboard. He said nothing to Danny, which only served to irritate him further, much to Tony's amusement. If he could only get McGee in on this, then he'd be set to not do any work but play with them like marionettes for the entire day, or two, if he was lucky.

"Listen, I know I should probably be supportive and everything," Danny started, working under an assumption. "But is she still . . . you know?"

"She's not a stripper anymore, if that's what you're asking," Tony said, feeling solemn all of a sudden. "Not since we arrested her manager. Pretty obvious, considering she's been here all week."

"Just checking," Danny said feebly, twiddling his thumbs. Tony's smugness gave him an odd feeling of uncertainty.

"Why do you care so much, anyways?" Tony asked, after a long pause.

"Why do I care about what?" Danny asked in reply, having forgotten what they were talking about.

"About Ziva," he said. "Being a stripper. Why do you care?"

Danny felt a little invaded by his questions, as if he were a suspect being interrogated. They were brought forth with a rather harsh tone that was not frequented by the man he had come to call his partner and best friend.

"I don't, really," he said, not sounding the slightest bit convincing.

"Yeah you do," Tony accused. "If she hadn't been a stripper, then she'd just be another smart, beautiful girl, wouldn't she?" He had risen from his chair and was standing over the shorter man with menacing presence.

"Calm down, man," Danny stammered.

"Answer the question, Price," Tony demanded.

"Look, I guess it was more at the beginning but I didn't want you stickin' your nose in where it didn't belong. Especially with a girl so tangled in all this underground business. But I see what you liked about her. She's classy, and she's outta that job now."

"But if she wasn't, then what?"

"Then . . . I don't know."

"It wouldn't matter," Tony spat. "It doesn't matter what she does, or when she does it – that doesn't define who she is, and _that," _he smacked the table loud enough to turn heads. "Is why I love her." Those final words were soft as Tony leaned in close.

Danny's eyes widened and he physically leaned away from Tony. "Whoa, did you just say you loved her?"

Tony took a deep breath and collapsed in his chair. "Yeah," he admitted. He may have loved her, but it was a tiring thing to do.

"Does she know that?"

As Danny spoke, Ziva came back through the door and began to walk back to her desk. Tony let his eyes linger on her for a moment. It was his favourite time when he could look at her without her knowing (or, at least, acknowledging. Few things were quick enough to get past her unnoticed).

"Yeah, she does," Tony whispered.

"And does she . . ."

Ziva was too close for him to answer, so he just looked at her again, more obviously this time. She looked back, with a smile. When Tony turned back to his partner, he seemed to understand, and he gave a reassuring nod.

"Okay," he said, getting up, and patting Tony on the back. "I gotta take a leak."

Ziva screwed up her face and Tony laughed, thinking it was adorable..

"Hey," he said finally. She didn't answer him at first, because she thought he might say something else. He didn't, he just looked at her in the kind of indulgent way that he couldn't before and it made her stomach do flips.

"Hi," she replied after a while. Inwardly, she cursed herself for her inability to form a sentence, or to tear her eyes from him. Looking at him, she was reminded of everything that he had always been to her and so much more.

"You gotta stop with the little looks." The corner of his mouth was raised in a crooked smile.

She laughed (he did truly adore that sound). "Me? Stop yourself."

"Sorry." And there was that tantalising smile again. His green eyes sparkled at her and _God, _it would be so easy just to fall into his arms right then and there. But she didn't. She stayed upright and straight-backed in her chair that few feet away from him. The competitive streak in her told her to resist it, and to resist _him, _but it really was difficult, and she thought for a moment how stupid she had been to even consider shutting him out.

He was the best thing that had happened to her in far too long.

...

Despite everyone's best efforts to keep the events of that morning secret, most of the office were playing Chinese whispers with Tony's love life by mid-afternoon. Danny had filled McGee in like a gossiping schoolgirl and someone his not only misheard but misinterpreted, and so it began. Ziva kept dignified as the details surrounding the infamous "she" in the story grew darker and more distorted by the hour, and she felt awful hearing them, but did not jump to correct anyone. She stayed silent.

Just before five thirty, two men whom Ziva recognised from that first night at Tim's party approached Danny's desk. Tony was not there.

"Hey, Dan," one of them said. "What do you know about this 'Tony hooking up with a stripper in the back of a taxi' thing?"

_A taxi, _Ziva thought. _That's a new one._

Danny gulped and looked over at Ziva. On any other occasion he might indulge the entertainment of two of his fellow officers, but this time, he knew his best friend would take it to heart, and he liked Ziva. She didn't deserve to be trash-talked by the entire office.

"No," he said quietly, still looking at Ziva. "No, it's not true."

"You sure?" the other asked.

"Positive. He told me himself."

"Then where'd the rumour come from?"

Danny gave a sigh. "I don't know," he lied. "But he does have a girlfriend. And he really . . . he really loves her."

Ziva smiled as subtly as she could, but struggled to be subtle at all.

"Maybe we should start planning _his _bachelor party. Hey, we could get that stripper that McGee had – she was _good."_

Ziva resisted the urge to choke out a sarcastic thank-you and decided to start afresh with these men if she ever actually had to talk to them. Clearly they didn't recognise her, though she supposed that was a good thing.

Eventually, they turned to leave, and Danny told them to spread the _actual _word before the false one got any worse.

After they had left, Ziva tapped Danny on the shoulder. "Thank you," she said. "That was a kind thing to do for him. Especially when the situation between he and I is so complicated."

"Anytime," he answered. "And I wouldn't worry about complicated, Ziva. He's head over heels for you."

Ziva had never smiled so much in one day.


	19. Chapter 19

Ziva and Tony threw each other the occasional smile across the office, but for the most part, the next few days were inconveniently placed in their relationship. Soon, Tony and Danny had a new case. Some mob leader somewhere in the underground of Baltimore that supposedly existed had been assassinated. Unfortunately, so had four innocent and seemingly random civilians who were witnesses, and there were no leads as to the assassin, other than a few stray shell casings. That was all Ziva had been told from him, not that it had particularly interested her, but she would listen to him talk about basically anything.

Wives had come in and cried and the men had asked them guilty questions, like did they have any enemies or did you know of anything that may have put your husband in danger or the dreaded _where were you on this day at this time _and each woman would give a more offended and tear-filled shriek at the mere suggestion that they would hurt their husbands because they _loved_ them. Few wives, Tony had found from working in homicide for as long as he had, came in with the openly bitter attitude they may have had in regards to their marriage while their husbands were still alive because a) they did not want to seem suspect and b) because they were under the impression that death could resurrect even the deadest of relationships. The false impression, that is.

And Tony felt the same general discomfort as he did in all the opening days of a new homicide case, especially one as nasty as this one. It was not the sights (or smells) of the corpses that bothered him, or the sight of blood, like so many others, but just the general idea of death. Though death surrounds people, many seem to forget it even exists until it overtakes their lives, like the one who had been lost had been completely invincible until the moment their mortality took over. He remembered his mother, and the eternal feeling she had had while she had still been living. Maybe that was because he had been a kid at the time, or maybe it was how death always felt. He didn't know. There hadn't been a death like that for him in years. While thinking about this, he looked over at Ziva. She'd lost her entire family; she would understand this better than anyone.

There were strange feelings to overcome when death defeated the invincible. Every further death brought to the forefront of his mind the bitter futility of human existence, and in such a poor state he wondered why live when someone or something would eventually kill you. Even if that someone was you and that something was a gun or a rope hanging from the rafters or a handful of small, multicoloured pills with biohazard warning stickers on the bottles.

From the minute you are born, you begin to die. Every moment was a moment closer towards your untimely death. And of course, death could never be _timely. _There was no correct time to die. Death was one of the things that was unfortunately influenced by the randomness of the universe.

Amongst the cinematic tragedy of it all, it was hard to focus on anything besides that which was glaringly obvious in. But in the lapses in the constant depressing stages of his day, from the mourners and the fights that broke out among suspects (he made a mental note not to keep them together in future, especially when the mob was involved), Tony began to notice something else.

It was curious the way people could be in your life one day and not in it the next. But there was a difference between knowing someone was still reachable to you and knowing you could never speak to them again. Kind of like when you thought your neighbour moved away but he actually died.

In this kind of situation, where nothing happened besides the asking of questions, Tony fancied himself an observer of all angles rather than an investigator.

And so he wondered, was part of the reason people mourned so much just simple human nature?

It was not so much a gaping hole in a person's life, but the human instinct to _want_ and to _claim_ and to _possess_ that which was not even their own.

For example, a small child surrounded by toys. Perhaps a doll, a toy car and a ball. The doll and the car are being played with, and the ball is left neglected. The child shows no sign of caring for the ball until somebody takes it from him. Then all of a sudden he wants the ball back, because it was _his. _Even though possession was pointless since the ball didn't interest him. It was the same when a waiter asks if you are finished with your meal and all of a sudden you have that extra bit of room for another bite, and then another. Tony saw this process of wanting presently in all the people he interviewed and met over those few days, and while he tried to stay as fair as possible to all those involved, he could not help wonder which of them were affected by this and which of them were genuinely in mourning.

When somebody leaves a person's life, they always have the means or the option to contact them should they so desire. But because there is always a seemingly infinite future in which this can occur, it seldom happens. And then, one day, it is too late and all of a sudden the person left living is the person wishing they had called. Not because they wished they had seen the person or heard their voice one last time, but because they had been robbed of something. Cheated of something. People, in general, do not like to be cheated.

So maybe the glaring void was not because of loss, but because of want. Then again, the actual glare was probably due to pain more than anything else. Tony tried to take this into consideration while he spoke to everyone, and wondered silently if Danny did the same.

These kind of days always got him thinking about his mom, and some days it got to a point where he was so deep in thought that even a stranger could tell something was up. And then, there was Ziva, of course. But she waited, kindly, until they had left for the night and were walking home. The night was cold.

"Tony, are you alright?" she asked, her accent more obvious than normal. She'd been singing some kind of Hebrew rap song for most of the morning and had even accidentally said a few phrases without switching languages first. She was tired – it was sometimes easier to slip back into old habits.

"Fine," he said. "Just tired." She looked at him with thin, suspicious eyes. He sighed. "You ever think about your mom?"

Her face fell a little, though she tried to conceal it. "Sometimes," she answered, her voice barely there at all. "Do you think about yours?"

"Sometimes," he repeated, then smiled a little. "Today," he clarified. Her mouth made an 'oh' shape but no sound escaped. She understood.

"All those mourning wives – did it remind you of your father or your family?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's not like my mother was some kind of angel and that her death is responsible for all my issues but sometimes I wish she coulda been around a little longer, you know?"

"I know," she nodded.

"What was your mom like, after you lost your dad?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I do not believe my parents were on speaking terms when my father died," she said, almost laughing at it.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she said. "I am not sure how they stayed together long enough to have two children when they could barely be in the same room as each other."

"Well, I don't know. Try to stay together for them?"

"Maybe," she answered, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. It was cold out. "What was your mother like?"

Tony chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. "To tell you the truth," he began. "I don't really remember. I remember that she was blonde, tall, liked movies. I think that's why I like 'em so much. She fought with my dad a lot. She was a little crazy, to tell you the truth. Maybe it was better this way."

"Maybe she died for a reason."

"What, like the Universe took her away because it was 'her time'?" he asked, unsure what to think.

"Yes," was Ziva's answer.

"You really believe in all that stuff? Like 'everything happens for a reason' kinda thing?"

She shrugged and stopped walking. "I don't think I have a choice."

And as she said that he stared at her and realised that thinking that was a perfectly logical thing and he felt terrible for questioning her even a little bit.

"And anyway," Ziva continued, taking a step. "Even if you don't believe in that, you can at least say that it was a good thing that you were too young to recognise her real flaws, assuming that she had them. That way, she's immortalised."

"Immortalised, huh?"

"Just like those movies you love."

And they stopped walking because they were out the front of Ziva's building. In the winter the sun set early, and even though it was only just before six, it was well and truly past twilight. He stood a few inches from her and held her hands.

"How do you always know what to say?" he asked, not really demanding an answer, but she gave one anyway.

"People spent far too long giving me the wrong ones." There was silence for a moment, like neither was sure what to do next. "Do you want to come upstairs?"

"I think your sister needs you tonight. It's been a tough week. And I gotta work tomorrow."

"A goodnight kiss, then?" she asked, sick of tiptoeing around him.

He smiled lopsidedly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She gave him a look, with one eyebrow raised, looking dissatisfied. Then she gave him a youthful and mischievous smile, not dissimilar to the ones she flashed at him through the smoky room on the night that they had first met.

"On the _lips,_" she told him firmly, kissing him herself in the end.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Wow, twenty chapters! I'm not sure how this happened. I told myself this story would be ten chapters, tops. Oops? Oh well. Still a few to go, I'm not sure how many just yet. Thanks for all your support and reviews and for reading, you've been amazing so far. **

Chapter 20—

After holding his cell phone contemplatively in front of him for a good three minutes debating whether or not to call a cab, Tony just decided to walk. It was about ten blocks to his place from hers, and he could use the exercise, especially after having pizza three nights in a row because of the case and because it was what he called his "thinking food".

He started walking down the empty street and away from Ziva's building. His head was a bit of a mess, partly from the exhaustion, and partly because he had talked about his mother. She'd always kinda confused him, even when she was alive. She was the woman who drank his sea monkeys and dressed him like a sailor but she was also the woman that read him stories and took him to the movies and loved him, really, in her own very interesting way.

And then, all of a sudden, she was gone, without any explanation as to why. Why, he would ask the universe, why take away the mother of an eight year old boy? Surely you can think of better people to get rid of – people who are old or sick or in pain or are criminals and don't deserve another breath (Tony's jaw clenched as he remembered a few of the men he had put behind bars that fit that description).

He guessed, after all, that that was the pinpoint of why he didn't believe the universe really had any power over anything. He didn't judge Ziva – he couldn't after the short and rather devastating life she had led. In all truth, were he in her position, he'd probably be telling himself all kinds of crazy things just to be able to get up in the morning. But he wasn't. And so he couldn't believe all that. He couldn't believe that the universe held all the power because if it did, maybe it wouldn't be so reckless and stupid.

Tony shuddered as a particularly icy wind hit him and he thought about his dad. They hadn't spoken in almost two years – two Christmases ago. And it had been short, with promises to call soon from the other end of the line. Unfulfilled promises, needless to say.

The buzzing of his phone pulled him out of his trance and he read the message. It was from Ziva:

_Tali asks why you haven't been over lately. I didn't realise after seeing you at work so much._

Tony frowned and realised he hadn't seen Tali in about a week, maybe a week and a half, and he felt bad. After all, half the reason he had gotten as close with Ziva as he had was because of that little girl. He texted back:

_I'll be over tomorrow morning. I'll bring donuts._

It was a few minutes before she replied, but she did eventually:

_Tali's favourites are Krispy Kreme. _

He smirked. He could almost see the smug expression on her face.

...

"Krispy Kreme, as promised," he said with obvious pride as he handed the box of four over to Tali when she answered the door the next morning.

"You're the best, Tony!" she exclaimed, picking out a chocolate.

"Don't eat too many," Ziva said, tapping Tali's belly through her pyjamas. "And wipe the chocolate off your face!" Ziva licked her finger and reached out, to wipe Tali's face, but Tali did a rather swift manoeuvre to avoid her, which involved almost somersaulting across the rug in the centre of the room without so much as tipping the donut in her hand.

"And yet you still have chocolate on your face," Tony said with amazement. Tali laughed. Ziva told her to go get dressed and Tali pulled a face, but obliged. Then Ziva looked over at him with a different expression.

"Hi," she said.

His mouth stretched into a grin. "I missed you last night," he said, placing the box on the table beside the doorway and running his fingers down her arms.

"You saw me all day," she pointed out.

"So I'm irrational."

"You could have come up," she reminded him.

"True," he said, nodding, moving his hands to hook around her waist and play with the hem of the T-shirt that she'd worn to bed. "But then you wouldn't have gotten donuts."

She reached up and touched his face, making the moment less playful that it had been in the beginning. "I missed you too."

He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to say that he wished that they'd had time for themselves last night. That had been part of the deal from the beginning, and he had been willing to accept that.

"Ziva," Tali called, before coming out into the living room in a sweatshirt and worn jeans, barely giving Tony and Ziva enough time to untangle themselves from each other. "Stacey's mom is picking me up in ten minutes."

"Where you goin', kiddo?" Tony asked.

Ziva smiled. "Tali's going to a slumber party."

"Is that so?" Tony tried to force away the thoughts of joy at having a night alone with Ziva but it was more difficult that he had thought.

Tali nodded smugly, and Ziva's phone rang, so she excused herself into the bedroom. Tony finally decided to actually let himself into the apartment and sit down on the sofa. Tali sat beside him.

"So I hear you were complaining that you don't see enough of me," he said.

"This is you making up for it, then? Because I'm guessing Ziva told you."

He winced. She was too sharp sometimes. "You'd be guessing correctly."

"It's okay – I'm not gonna keep tabs on you and make you come over all the time. I just think you make things a little more fun."

"You can't blame your sister if things aren't always fun," he said. "You know, she works pretty hard and new jobs are tough."

"I know, I know. But still." She finished off her donut.

Tony shrugged. She was right. She _did_ know. This girl needed a father figure – she'd lacked one for years. And if she'd decided that he would be a good one, then he wouldn't deny her that. She certainly didn't deserve it.

Ziva's phone call had ended by the time she spotted a waiting car outside the building.

"Do you want me to walk you down? Do you have all your things? Your phone?" Ziva asked, getting worried like she always did when Tali left.

"No, yes and yes," Tali answered. "I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too," Ziva said. As much as she wanted Tali to be independent, her leaving always made her a little anxious. Tali had been such a shut-in after they had lost their mother. It was good that she wasn't anymore, but still, she hated leaving her alone, and she hated being left.

"That's gotta be hard, huh?" Tony asked softly, reaching for her hand. Tali had left, and they had watched out the window until a girl about Tali's age got out of the car, hugged her and helped her with her stuff, and they drove away. "Watching her walk out the door."

"She'll be back in the morning."

"You interested in a little company tonight?"

She looked over, and squeezed his hand. "I would like that," she answered quietly.

**Author's Note: *whispers* (I promise something a little more intimate between Tony & Ziva soon)**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21—

He had to leave shortly after, promising to be "back later". He wondered, as he stepped out the door, what constituted as "later". She hadn't specified a time, and neither had he.

He decided to wait until his desire to see her overpowered his rationality. It was strange the way he felt nervous about such stupid things like that all of a sudden. He'd never felt nervous around girls before. Then again, this was probably yet another area where Ziva proved how different she was to all the others. She seemed to do that frequently, but he liked it.

Maybe the jitterbugs that came from seeing her were just there because it had taken a real amount of heart for this relationship to even happen. It had taken time and trust for her to open up to him, and in the process, he'd learned things about himself, too.

For the whole day, he thought about her. He thought about things he could say to her, he thought about what might happen a few months or a year from now. He thought about how the improbability of their relationship was highly irrelevant, because everything that they were now had been all them. Yes, of course they were improbable. But every relationship is, really. The tiniest thing can alter your life so you never bump into a person and end up getting to know them. A few dollars can stop a person from moving into a new place and falling in love with their neighbour. And, Tony supposed, if it weren't for his insatiable curiosity, maybe he wouldn't have ever seen Ziva after the twisted ankle incident, though that in itself was pure coincidence. Everything since their first meeting had not been coincidence. Maybe it was inevitability, but Tony preferred to think of it as professionally altered circumstance, and of himself as a professional at altering the said circumstance.

...

He was still thinking about the alterations of circumstance when he arrived at her apartment at six. She smiled as she opened the door and stepped aside easily to let him in. The place seemed . . . lighter. There was what he swore was a new lamp in the corner. There was Chinese food sitting in its neat little containers on the kitchen counter, steam wafting from it. The whole apartment smelled vaguely like generic cleaning product. None of Tali's books were sitting on the coffee table and the cushions on the sofa had been straightened. It was refreshing, but it almost felt staged, like Ziva felt she had a standard to meet.

Things started out formally but twenty minutes later they were eating the Chinese while sitting, both bare-footed, on her living room rug.

"Did you clean the place up?"

"Actually, yes," she said, holding a noodle skilfully between her chopsticks. She didn't say anything else, and he felt unsure of where to go. What to say. Something about the whole thing felt off.

"I just – " he started, stopping almost immediately. "I hope you don't feel any kind of pressure or anything. From me, I mean. Just because we're here and we're alone, I . . . whatever you want, Ziva."

"Okay," she said simply. Whatever _she_ wanted. Ziva felt so unbelievably satisfied at those three words. And the best part was that he didn't even realise what a big deal that was.

There was silence between them, and Ziva did not seem distressed in the slightest, so he dropped the subject. "I brought this movie for us to watch. A French thing from the early sixties."

"You don't speak French," Ziva protested.

"I know, but you don't have to with these kinds of movies. Sorry – _films. _It's enough just to see the people on the screen. It's a love story. I thought you might like it. We don't have to watch it."

The corners of her mouth spread into a wide grin. He was stuttering and stammering and falling over his own feet and it was adorable.

"Is there something wrong, Tony?" she asked. "You seem jumpy."

"Not jumpy," he said, automatically. "Not at all."

She shrugged. "Do you want to put the movie in?"

"_Film."_

"Put the film in, Tony."

...

They sat beside each other on the couch as black and white credits accompanied by distorted orchestral music trickled across the screen. Ziva kept hoping he would take her hand – she loved it when he did that. He didn't. He seemed fixated on the plot.

"Maybe she's a secret agent and has orders to take him out," she joked, trying to get him to smile. He dismissed her mostly, but then she tried again, with a different and wackier theory and it became a game.

"That guy is the King of Germany in disguise."

"The cigarette company puts brainwashing agents in their filters." This was accompanied by conspiracy theories surrounding various other fictional corporations. They laughed. And somehow their bodies shifted closer on the sofa, until their thighs were touching and their arms resting against one another. Ziva felt her heart pick up. Ever since kissing him in her bedroom, she hadn't been able to think of much else. She wanted to do it again. She _needed_ to. But he seemed apprehensive, which was not what she had ever considered him to be. She knew why, and she hated herself for it. He was so afraid of being one of _those guys _whom she had spent her life as a stripper being afraid of that he couldn't even be himself. That wasn't love. Self-compromise is not love. He had to know that. She did love him, too, but she loved _him, _not the scared and timid pre-teen that had entered her home in his body.

Then again, she had spent most of the afternoon cleaning which, though necessary, had been done for the wrong reasons. She had tried to give him isolation for the two of them, which was something they would probably never have, aside from that night. She had tried to give him the idyllic picture of romance and tranquillity. But she was kidding herself, really. It was what it was, and while it was amazing and thrillingly unfamiliar, they could not dress their relationship and wear it as something else. The two of them were anything but idyllic. That was what made it so special, in a way.

She tried to switch the conversation to something more personal. The movie was still playing in the background.

"You should thank Danny," she said.

He turned his head. "Why? What'd he do?"

"You should just thank him."

"He owed me one." He thought of the altercations that had taken place over her. In a way, he was happy that Danny was eating his own words, but in another, he was just glad that he'd stopped generalising Ziva, who really couldn't be generalised. Thinking this, he turned to her. The man and woman on the screen were in mirrored positions and proximity to them, and the woman said something. Tony didn't hear. Ziva's deep brown eyes searched his, and then she uttered something:

"_Je t'aimerai tant que les étoiles brillent dans le ciel. Et tant que les vagues frappent la côte et le soleil tire les mauvaises herbes dans le sol. Et tant que les jours se fondre dans nuits. C'est combien de temps je t'aime, ma chérie."_ Her French was beautiful, falling easily off her tongue. He crinkled his nose nonetheless. He didn't understand the beautiful language.

"Rough translation," she offered. "I love you as long as the stars shine in the sky. And as long as the waves hit the shore and the sun pulls weeds from the soil. And as long as the days melt into nights. This is how long I love you, my darling."

He smiled. "Wow."

"It is a quote from the movie," she said, almost blushing.

"Since when do you speak French?"

She shrugged. "I do, you know," she said after so long that it couldn't be considered an answer to his question.

"Like the stars and the waves and the flowers?" he asked, hope beaming from him. She nodded. "Me too." He reached over and touched her cheek, but did not inch closer, no matter how much she willed him to. She took his hand eventually, and intertwined their fingers, pulling his away from her face, but not losing eye contact for even a second.

"You look scared of something," he whispered.

"So do you," she countered, feeling rather breathless.

"Maybe I am."

"Of what? I just told you that I love you. I have never told anybody that before." Still holding his hand, she shifted so that she was kneeling up and facing him. "Aren't you supposed to kiss me?"

"I guess I am," he answered happily.

He pressed his lips just barely to hers, and her entire body tensed up at the feeling. His kisses made her heart flutter but this, oh this . . . she had no other reaction other than to reach around to the back of his neck and to somehow pull him closer and closer until it was physically impossible.

He broke away and whispered her name. She thought it was little more than a call into the void, and so she kissed gently across his jaw, which bore just a hint of stubble. And she thought for a fraction of a second that it was more than that she loved him (which, undoubtedly, she did) – she was attracted to him to the point where she did not want to tear herself from him. He had to do it for her.

"_Ziva," _he said again, his voice scratchy and deep and barely there. His strong hands gripped her forearms. She looked up and saw the look in his eyes and she understood. If anything should happen between them, God forbid it happen on her sofa, in her living room. Not here. It would not be right.

She straightened her back and stepped with light grace off the sofa, taking his hands in hers. For a moment, as Tony stood before her, she let herself wrap her arms around him for a moment, and rest her head against his heartbeat. Time after time, she felt all the comfort in the world in his arms. He stroked her hair and his slow, steady breaths felt soothing against her skin. What a feeling it was just to be _held. _Nobody ever held her.

But slowly she took both his hands and moved away from the sofa, through the doorway to her bedroom, with an unmade bed. The bedside lamp was on and there was a book, downturned to hold the page, beside it. At least some things had been left alone while she had been cleaning.

They stood at the foot of the bed for a minute or two. It was not apprehension that held them back, or fear. They wanted to make sure they were ready to savour every moment of it. Every touch of the lips or the fingers, every look, every feeling. Neither of them wanted to forget.

He reached around and traced circles on the small of her back and smiled when he felt dimples on her skin. Ziva's arms felt strange hanging limply so she rested them against his chest and fiddled with one of the buttons of his shirt. But she grew impatient and could not refrain from kissing him again, more deeply and with more passion and hunger than before. Her fingers clawed through his hair and he began to pull her down onto the mattress. They landed with a rather ungraceful _thud _and they laughed at each other, before their lips met again.

Their legs were tangled in a mess of limbs but they made no show of simply being _with _each other. Neither could think of much more than the other at that moment. Tony began to tug at the hem of Ziva's blouse and he pushed it over her head, meeting her eyes and lips once more. He began to pepper kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, and then back up her neck, gently nipping at her earlobe before whispering, "You are so beautiful, Ziva," in her ear. That wasn't for physical gratification. He meant every word. He kissed her all over. He kissed her shoulders, her stomach, her breasts, and she writhed in pleasure and torture at the feeling of his lips against her bare skin.

Slowly garments began to collect on the carpeted floor and with each passing minute the _them _of it all became clearer and more prevalent. They just wanted to touch each other, feel each other. Their bodies barely parted throughout. Insatiable burning need for the other was evident in both of them, and even in the low light, Tony could see it in her eyes. It reminded him of the girl he had met all those weeks ago, and how different those two people were. And how different he himself had become. And how she was not the object of a fantasy but a _lover_. She had agreed to love him. More than anything he was grateful for this.

They showed only desire to be as close as possible to one another, desperately clinging to consciousness as heavy pleasure overwhelmed them and their mixed voices began to crescendo and became sparse with breath. Her head collapsed into the crook of his neck and she kissed his skin, whispering his name as they both began to drift. "I love you," she whispered, and then swallowed, still panting. Her curls were tickling the skin of his bare chest. "So much."

"I love you too," he promised. He ran his hands all the way up and down her back, just grazing the skin, until sleep enveloped him and then her in turn.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22—

She had not opened her curtains the day before, so the room was still and dark well into the morning. Tony work first (which he would later learn was notably unusual). One tiny crack of light caught peeking through the drapes caught his eye and he yawned. He wished, for once, that the ever-persistent sun would fall below the horizon for just a little while longer, and that night could overpower them so that Ziva could lay in his arms.

He buried his face into his pillow and clenched his fist. His arm was draped lazily across her body and his fingertips brushed against her bare stomach when me moved them. Just the feeling made him smile sleepily, and he became suddenly aware that their legs were still very much entangled.

He pushed himself upright to see it her eyes were open, but she was still sound asleep, so he lay back down again, perfectly content to be wrapped in the sheets that smelled like her. The comforter had shifted and exposed the skin of her naked back to him. For a while, he just stared. He watched that tiny crack of light dance against her, transfixed by the vast expanse of olive skin, perfectly smooth save for dimples down near her hips. And oh, what hips they were, he thought, stifling a chuckle. He thought back to what she had once said, about hips telling a story. A love story, though? He doubted she would have expected that.

He willed himself to memorise every curve and contour of her body, but his mind was screaming out '_touch, touch, touch,' _a mantra that would no doubt drive him to insanity if he did not indulge. It was like her body was a priceless artefact and he daren't place his hands on her. But he thought back to the previous night.

_Under the sheets, his hands moves up her sides to her waist and rested on her lower ribcage. His thumbs twitched with apprehension, brushing the undersides of her breasts, but only just. His face was hovering over hers, and she lifted her head to kiss him, and whispered against his lips, "You can touch, Tony." She heard a sharp intake of breath, and he felt liberated, allowing his desire for her to take hold. She gasped with pleasure as he complied, her body arching into his, which only encouraged him further. What he would give, he had thought at that moment, to see Ziva David undone before his eyes, over and over again. _

_"You can touch." _Her words from the night before still made his heart race as they echoed in his mind. Cautiously, he reached out and touched her back, and her curls, which were sprawled across the pillows. She shifted in her sleep and he could not resist but to lean forward and place his lips against her, tasting her skin. He trailed up her spine to the nape and side of her neck. Her eyes opened and her lips spread into a wide grin.

"Morning," she mumbled, tilting her head to give him better access. He smiled with his lips still pressed against her.

"Nice of you to join me," he said hotly into her ear. She turned her head and met his lips with her own, shifting again so her body lay on top of his. It was satisfying to lie there still, though, listening to the drumming of his heart and tracing shapes on his skin with her idle fingers.

"Last night was . . ." she said softly, after forever. She did not seem to have the adjective to finish it. She didn't need one, though.

"Yeah," he said, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. "It really was."

She lifted her head to look him in the eye. "I _do_ love you, Tony DiNozzo," she said, heartfelt all of a sudden. "And I ought to thank you."

"For?"

"For showing me that it is not a fault to love another person."

Tony reached up to cup her cheek. "It's not," he said.

"I know," she said.

There was an abrupt silence, and Ziva let her head tilt forward so their foreheads rested against each other. Tony closed his eyes in ecstasy. He could lay here with her forever. And he wanted to. He did not make one move until Ziva pulled his lips to hers again and they made love under that tiny crack of morning light, and it was perfect. The kind of perfect that exists independently of life around it and of the cold harshness of reality.

...

Eventually, he found the strength to pull away and go take a shower in her tiny bathroom. She lay tangled still in the sheets for a while, staring at the ceiling and listening to the shower run, and occasionally him bursting out into a song that she didn't know. She laughed, and really just wanted to be near him.

She walked out into the kitchen and munched on an apple to silence her growling stomach. Honestly, food was the last thing on her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about the past night. The way he kissed her and touched her and the way he made her want to hold onto him and never let go . . . all of these feelings were foreign and strange, but she welcomed them. In truth, she had never been with somebody by choice before. She had never been with somebody that had not been a customer. She wasn't sure if he actually knew that, and she prayed that if he didn't that he would not mind. She didn't think it mattered, really, though she was certainly not an expert in love.

Love. That word. Oh, and that man. She did love him, and it surprised and terrified her how easy it was to see that. But then she thought of him and how he did everything but scare her and her nerves were settled. It was this new love that would settle in time, she knew, but while it lasted she was glad to make the most of it all she could. It was not easy to come across someone who will love you.

Tony was in there for a while, but when he came out, he was dressed in yesterday's clothes, which were undoubtedly crinkled from spending most of the night abandoned on the floor of her bedroom. She had nothing but a thin robe draped over her and he approached her with a smile, holding her waist from behind. She felt smug, suddenly, and her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall. She froze.

"You have to go," she said, her body tense and stiff.

He frowned. "That's a little harsh." He was kidding, but it flew over her head, really.

"No, no, Tali will be home any minute and – "

Oh. Right. Reality. "Tali trusts me, Ziva."

"I do not want her to know, yet. Not like this. I have to tell her. It's too much of a change for her to just stumble upon."

He nodded understandingly, but was still hesitant to leave. He didn't want to. "Maybe she won't notice."

Ziva turned around and gave him a rather sceptical glare. "Your clothes. My . . . lack of clothes. I never sleep in this late. She knows you were here last night. It's Tali. She is too smart for her own good."

He sighed, and rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. "You're right. Okay, I'll go. I'll call you later, okay?" Despite the pending apparent danger, he couldn't resist leaning in and kissing her lips chastely before dashing out the door. He just managed to pull out onto the road in his Mustang before Tali was dropped off outside the building. Tony let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding in. Tali may be Tali, but she was still a kid. She couldn't understand the things that either of them were feeling – they themselves could not even understand it – but she had to feel okay with it all. Tony suspected she would, as she had asked him before if he had feelings for Ziva, and although her being there meant he had to leave, he was thankful for that kid.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23—

Once she was alone, the first thing Ziva did was rush into her bedroom to get dressed. Upon seeing the mess that it was, she panicked. Ziva, of all things, was tidy. Her clothes from the night before had been tossed to numerous places around the room. Hurriedly, she began to gather them. Pants, a shirt, even a hair elastic, but her undergarments were nowhere to be seen.

Convincing herself that they would surface soon enough, she rummaged in her closet for some fresh clothes. She pulled on a pair of jeans and shed her robe, leaving her top half bare as she searched for a shirt.

She was on the third button when she heard the clicking of the door handle and her sister's voice calling her name. "Ziva? Ziva?"

Ziva gasped. It was past ten in the morning – she had usually been up for hours by now (even in the days where she was up all night). Tali would suspect something, she knew it.

Nevertheless, she braved the living room and greeted her little sister with a hug, trying to calm herself down. "How was it? Did you have fun?" That was the most important thing, after all – that Tali make friends.

"It was okay. I couldn't really sleep."

"Why, were you girls up late?"

"No, Stacey's mom is really strict. When it hit eleven thirty she made everyone go to sleep. But I just couldn't."

"Did you get to know some of the other girls a little better?"

"I guess," she mumbled. "I don't think many of the other girls like me that much."

"Don't say that." Ziva wanted to cry. "You have not given them a reason to dislike you." She knelt down and placed a comforting hand on Tali's shoulder. "You made it through the night," she said. "Do you need to rest?"

"I'm okay." Tali shrugged and dragged her bag by its shoulder strap across the floor in the direction of her room, with her pillow tucked under her arm. It was as she walked away that Ziva realised how _parental _she was being about this whole thing. Girls at Tali's age were brutal, cliquey, and cruel. They had never liked her, either. All through high school, it had been painfully obvious that she was disliked by a good amount of people. Her mother – old-fashioned as she was – had claimed it was because Ziva was pretty and smart and intimidated them. That may have even been true, but Ziva never believed her. She convinced herself that she was too different – bilingual, Middle-Eastern, not afraid to beat a boy up if he got a little hands-y at a party.

Of _course _Tali felt disliked. She was different. Those other girls didn't know how to deal with it – it was no one's fault. And then, of course, there was the delicacy issue. Nobody teaches a twelve-year-old girl how to approach an orphan from the other side of the world.

Though she knew that being different was an inevitability, she wished that Tali could see how amazing she was.

...

Despite the night she'd had, Tali seemed to perk up when she drank a soda and propped herself up on the sofa with a book. She shuffled around, trying to get comfortable, then froze, staring at the coffee table, where the leftovers from the night before sat neglected. Tali further examined the room, and how it felt oddly askew. One of the couch cushions had fallen on the floor and a corner of the rug was upturned.

"Ziva," Tali called. "Tony came over last night, didn't he?"

"Yes, Tali," Ziva answered, trying to keep her voice as flat as she could.

"You didn't clean up dinner. Or the . . . couch."

Ziva scurried over and quickly tidied the dishevelled-looking sofa and the food. She looked over at Tali, who had opened her book, and didn't seem to give it a second thought. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up to read her message. It was from Tony.

_Dinner for three later? I make a kick-ass casserole._

She replied immediately:

_Sounds good. We have to talk to Tali. This is driving me crazy._

It was a few minutes before he texted back:

_Agreed. Shall we say seven?_

...

Ziva's endeavour to erase evidence of the night before continued into the evening, when she went into her bedroom to finish cleaning and to change the sheets. It took her a little longer than it usually did, for she kept getting distracted, remembering the night before. Oh, it had been perfect. She had wished she had more time to marvel in it.

It was incredible, the way he had changed in her eyes. She never would have believed it if she'd been told she'd fall for one of the men she'd danced for. And she'd never have believed that any man could be so delightfully sweet and loving and actually change her life for the better. And to be able to be with him in that way, in a way that was different to how she had been with anyone else.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Tali's footsteps.

"What's up?" Ziva asked.

"Nothing," Tali answered distractedly, fiddling with a Rubik's cube, which she quickly grew frustrated with and tossed across the floor and under the bed. This was nothing unusual when it came to Rubik's cubes, but even so Tali looked apologetic and dived onto the floor to retrieve it.

Her entire torso was under the bed when she said, "Ziva? What's this?" She crawled out from under there and held a navy blue silk tie in her hand. It was Tony's.

"It's a neck tie," Ziva answered, her voice smaller than she would have liked it to be.

"What's it doing under your bed?" It hadn't even been tied, and as she saw that, Ziva remembered pulling it off of Tony's neck without wanting to separate their lips. _Oh, God . . ._

"Knock, knock," a voice said, tapping on the door and pushing it open. Perfect timing on Tony's part, really. He frowned in surprise to see his tie in Tali's hand. "Is that –" He shut his mouth immediately when Ziva glared at him and shook her head in the subtlest possible way.

"Dinner, anyone?" he suggested.

...

Though dinner wasn't much better than the bedroom situation. It was almost silent, other than the sound of clinking cutlery and occasionally, chewing.

"Are you guys okay?" Tali asked, when they were almost finished. "You've been weird tonight. No offence."

"Actually," Ziva said, taking a deep breath. "There's something I – we would like to talk to you about."

Tali looked worried, and that only increased Ziva's hesitation. Tony felt bad for the both of them, and decided to start her off.

"You were right, Tali. You were right about all of it," he said, reaching across the table. "You somehow managed to figure out what I was feeling before I even felt it. You told me a while ago that maybe Ziva didn't think anyone would stick around for her." Ziva looked a little hurt, but she didn't stop him. It was true, every word. "But I'm going to. I'm going to stick around, I hope that makes you happy, because you know how much she loves you, right?"

Tali nodded silently.

"That's how much I love Ziva."

Underneath the table, Ziva felt for his hand and squeezed it tight.

"You guys are, like, together? _Together_ together?"

Ziva nodded with a teary smile. It was not like her to cry. "We are."

"And you're happy?" It wasn't really a necessary question. She could see it in their faces.

"Yeah, Tals," Tony answered.

"Good," Tali said, and she smiled at both of them. "That's good." Tali crossed the distance between them and hugged them both.

"Okay," Ziva said, not sure where to go. "I'll go clean up." Really, she was overjoyed. She could let herself fall irrevocably and wholly in love with the man smiling at her from across the room, and that made her so, so happy.

"You really love her, don't you?" Tali whispered to Tony, so Ziva couldn't hear.

"Yeah, kiddo," he admitted.

"Good," she said with a smile. "Otherwise I might have to beat you up." She began to walk away, but then took a step back, adding smugly: "Oh, and, uh, told you so."

**A/N: Remember to keep reviewing, thanks to all who have so far (:**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24—

Tali was tired after dinner- but was insistently refusing to go to bed. Tony suggested the three of them watch a movie, and though the David sisters' movie collection was sparse, they both agreed. Tony and Tali sat at each end of the sofa, waiting for Ziva to join them.

When Ziva asked Tali to select a movie, the younger girl insisted in return that Ziva pick. Tali looked to Tony with raised brows as Ziva abided and began to rummage through a cardboard box full of VHS tapes. One had a label with the title written across it in black marker: _The Sound of Music. _

"Watch," Tali instructed, smiling knowingly at her sister. "It's her favourite."

"Do you mind, Tony?" she asked, looking extremely hesitant. "We can watch something else if you –"

She was cut off by his gesture to go ahead. He tried to keep a straight face but he couldn't keep away the grin. Ziva David was a paradox wrapped in a tragedy wrapped in an appreciation for musicals, apparently. She looked a little embarrassed, but he just continued smiling. It was increasingly difficult to stop himself falling even further for her when she seemed insistent of capturing his heart.

They had barely made it through the overture when Tony and Ziva noticed Tali staring at them curiously.

"You okay, kiddo?" Tony asked.

She nodded but frowned pointedly in their direction. "For two people who claim they're in love, you're sitting really far apart." She was winding them up, really, but she was also keeping an eye on Tony, making _sure _he would keep his word to both of them. He was not a stranger anymore.

Both Tony and Ziva turned their heads to examine the space between them. Tony was resting against the sofa's arm, and Ziva had her legs curled up beside her, next to Tali.

Tony smiled, his eyes lighting up. Before she could protest, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her towards him rather clumsily. She let out a laugh and playfully hit his chest, and as she did, Tali's smile transformed from smug to genuine. She had never seen Ziva look at someone quite like the way she looked at Tony – all big eyes full of utter admiration.

...

By the time Julie Andrews had started singing about her favourite things, they noticed Tali had fallen asleep. Her right arm was hanging limply off the sofa and her face was resting on the arm.

Ziva laughed softly. "I knew she was tired," she said.

"She took everything pretty well, huh?"

"Better than I thought she would."

"You underestimate her sometimes, you know."

"She is my sister," Ziva replied slowly, and for a moment Tony feared that he had upset her. But then she added, "I can't help but underestimate her."

...

After a while, Tony moved his gaze from the screen to Ziva. Her expression was calm, but in spite of that he decided he would much rather watch her. The colours coming from the screen were the colours of the Austrian countryside, and they lit up her face in different hues of green and blue and gold. Her lips moved with the dialogue, she knew it so well. He liked seeing her like this, lost in the moment. Carefree, for a fraction of a second. Oblivious to the world. Or so it would seem.

"You're staring," she said, breaking the silence after forever.

"Sorry," he said apologetically, not looking away.

"You're still staring," she reminded him with a smile. She turned to face him. "Do I have food on my face or something?"

"No, I just really like looking at you. You're really beautiful."

She scoffed.

"You _are." _It sounded more like a promise than anything else.

"Tony," she said, having gotten into the habit of avoiding it when people told her she was beautiful.

He moved in closer to her, his nose touching her cheek. "It's like you have no idea, but you are, Ziva." He pressed his lips softly to her skin and her eyes fluttered shut as she exhaled.

"Tony, Tali's right there," she whispered chastely when she came back to reality. She moved over and gently shook her sister on the shoulder and instructed her to go to bed. Tali, still half-asleep, complied without any protest, and kissed Ziva on the cheek on the way out.

"Can I kiss you _now?" _Tony asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Ziva felt her heart racing a little.

"If you must," she said with a smile and mock exasperation. So he stood and came towards her, meeting her lips gently and holding her underneath the chin.

"I should go," he whispered.

"Wait," she said. "Stay." She gripped his shirt. "After last night I just . . . want to be around you." She touched his cheek. "I did not know that a person, _anyone, _could make me feel like that."

He ignored the urge to make an egotistical joke, and instead asked, "What way?"

"I don't know. Like maybe my existence is more than just an existence? I've never been more than an object of human desire."

"Yeah," he replied after a silence. "I understand."

"You do?"

He gulped. Of course he did. He'd never been more than a _source _of human desire before meeting her. "Sure." If he was going to say any more, it was interrupted by the ringing of Ziva's landline, which was almost never ringing. Ziva looked stunned. It was past midnight.

"Hello?" she answered, holding the phone close to her ear in both hands.

"Shalom, Ziva," a strongly accented female voice greeted from the other end of the phone.

"Aunt Nettie?" Ziva asked. Rivka's sister. Tony frowned. She'd never mentioned any relatives. Any living ones, at least.

"Of course, dear," the woman said. "Do you mind if we talk in Hebrew? It is easier on my brain so early in the morning."

"I would rather not, Nettie. I have company."

"This time of day?"

"Night, actually. What are you doing up so early?" There was a six hour time difference between Baltimore and Israel, where Aunt Nettie was calling from.

"Feeding the horses, of course!" she exclaimed. Nettie and her husband

"Of course." Ziva's voice was flat. Nettie sounded too cheery for her uncle to be anything other than just peachy, and there were no other members of that side of the family that were in close contact with them. Not that Nettie was in close contact, either. She hadn't called since Rivka died, to give condolences and speak of solicitors. "Why have you called?"

"Well, Ziva," she began, clearing her throat. "Your uncle and I have come into some money. We have a new, very rich client for whom we have been breeding and he pays us extra to keep his horses in our stable when he is away on business."

"Congratulations," Ziva offered, not knowing what else to say.

"Well, they are in order, because we have decided that you and Tali should come and join us!"

Ziva's eyes widened. "_What? _No, Nettie, no, that is. . . we cannot . . ."

"Ziva, Ziva, relax. When your mother passed we had not much money but now we can support the two of you and you do not have to live on bread crumbs anymore. There will be no pressure on you. It is all arranged."

Oh, it was tempting. She and Tali could live happily with their aunt and uncle, who were very loving. She would not have to work as much, and she could speak Hebrew all day and night. Oh, how she adored that language. No more stress, but also, no more Tony.

"Aunt Nettie, I . . ." Ziva willed herself to find words. "Nettie, Tali is settled here. I think she is beginning to make friends. And I am happy here, too. We are okay."

"You could ride Elijah! He misses you!"

Elijah was Ziva's horse, and he was chestnut brown. She hadn't seen him in six years, since they moved away. And that sweetened the deal, but still, she declined. "Tell Elijah I miss him, too. Thank you for the offer."

"Okay, Ziva. I understand. This 'company' that you have is making you want to stay. That is okay. Maybe even better. But be careful not to sacrifice your sister's happiness. She is important. She lost her mother, too."

"Yes, Aunt Nettie."

"No . . . what is the phrase? Hard feelings? Well, the offer still stands. If you change your mind – do you have my number?"

Ziva scribbled down a phone number and placed it next to the phone. Tony looked rather alarmed by it all.

"Who's Elijah?" he asked.

Ziva laughed. "My horse."

"You have a horse?"

"My mother's sister and her husband breed ponies and horses in Israel. They live in a huge house next to a vineyard. It's beautiful."

"And they wanted you to go and live with them?"

"Yes."

"But you said no?"

"I did."

"But it would have been so much easier on you."

"You are worth the stress, I should think," she answered, kissing him. He looked at his watch, their lips still half-touching.

"Now I really have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

And he was gone. Ziva only just caught the end of the movie before falling asleep herself.

**A/N: I was hit with sudden inspiration for a plot twist this afternoon. Prepare yourselves! That is all I will say on the matter.**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25—

Monday came too quickly. Ziva arrived at work after Tony – quite some time after, she later found out. He'd been there at seven that morning for lack of sleep and a thirst for productivity that Danny would never understand.

When Ziva came in, he was glaring at the paper folder on his desk. His desk lamp was on, despite the fact that sun was starting to flood in through the windows, cut into neat slices by the dusty old blinds. His head was resting on his hand.

She sat at the desk. "Morning," she said quietly. It was just to him. He looked up and smiled at her, but did not say anything back. He just went back to his file. His mind seemed to be in overdrive. She tried again. "I bought you some coffee."

He seemed to realise he'd been functionally mute since she'd walked through the door and took it, whispering a 'thanks' and quickly kissing her cheek. She smiled girlishly. "I gotta get back to work, sorry," he told her. She nodded. They were at work, after all. The kiss made her smile but it was more than she should expect from him around the office. This was his job, and it was a job he loved. If he could put up with being second to Tali then she should accept his passion for his work, even if he had never felt that passion herself.

"I'll talk to you later," she said, leaving him, believing it was best. She didn't speak to him again for most of the day. He and Danny had a new case – something about a sailor getting murdered. She didn't catch the details.

On interval she found her eyes wander to him and she would watch him with intrigue. He was kind of beautiful when he wasn't trying to be handsome. When he wasn't smiling his trademark hair or fixing his hair – over the weekend, she had actually learned this was regularity for him, and laughed. She liked looking at him, even though it just made her want to kiss him. Although, almost everything did lately. And she couldn't seem to suppress that desire. It wasn't physical, though. Not really. She mostly just wanted to be near him in the kind of way that she had been in. _In the way that made her existence feel like more than just an existence. _The way that made her feel whole and human and impossibly complete.

But she could keep her distance if she had to.

...

He left the office around noon on a lunch run. Ziva and Danny stayed back.

"I can't believe you guys," Danny said after a while, completely out of the blue. Ziva was confused and asked what he meant. "It's just . . ." he stammered. "I never would have pegged Tony as the kind of guy that falls in love after five minutes. And it's not puppy love or anything – I'm not saying that, it's just that it's not his normal style. I didn't even know he was a believer in love."

"Well, he is," Ziva said, coming across extremely defensive, though not intending to. She didn't really know what else to say to that. "What _is _his style?"

"Uh," Danny said, suddenly hesitant.

"Danny," she prompted, hardening her gaze. For a cop, he sure faltered easily. Maybe she was intimidating. It was a little gratifying that she could still do that to people. She thought maybe that intimidation had left her since quitting her job, but maybe not.

"He had a bit of a reputation in college. I didn't know him, but I've heard stories. Seen pictures."

"And?"

Danny laughed nervously and folded his arms over his crisp, sky-blue shirt. "He was a party animal. I don't know how else to put it. What was it they used to call him – "sex machine"? I mean, he went to parties a lot and strip clubs and – "

"What?" Ziva asked, hoping harder than she ever had that she had misheard.

"Strip clu—oh my God, Ziva, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," Danny said apologetically, realising what he had said.

"No, no," she said, collecting herself. "Ignorance is bliss, right?" Her breathing had become shallow, and she kept blinking rapidly. Tony. _Her_ Tony? He had been one of them all this time? It couldn't be, could it? "I am glad you told me." She wasn't. She was devastated.

She felt unbelievably _stupid, _like she'd just been played. Had she been so naive that she actually believed he was some kind of God-send? He was like all of them! She met him at a _bachelor party, _for God's sake!

It shouldn't bother her, she knew it shouldn't. But her image of him was tainted. She knew what it was like to be the girl on the receiving end of forcibly welcomed but ultimately unwanted touches and to imagine _him _behind all that . . . it made her want to burst into tears.

She'd somehow convinced herself that he lacked any fatal flaw, which made it more difficult when she found it, in the end.

...

He came back after. She didn't want to look at him. She wasn't angry, but she didn't know what to feel. She looked up once during the final four hours of work and saw him standing over Danny's desk, holding a manila folder. Those hands, those hands that she _loved _were right in front of her, but she didn't want to look at them. Or him. She felt like not knowing that about him, made her a fool. She didn't like feeling like that.

And of course, he noticed something was up. But he let it go – he didn't want to push her, especially if it was about Israel and she was trying to think. He gave her space for the rest of the day. When she left, forty minutes before he was scheduled to finish, she placed a note on his desk.

_Come to the basement of my apartment building when you finish. _

She took a deep breath and walked out the door, Danny watching her leave with all the regret in the world. He'd never broken a girl's heart before, and he made careful note not to do it again.

...

Ziva played for a long time before he came. The sound wasn't beautiful today. It was distorted and minor and ugly but she kept playing anyway. She played till her fingers ached and her back had fallen into a slouch after sitting upright for so long. She let one single tear fall onto the keys.

Her Tony was another man that she would be otherwise afraid of. And not just that, but she refused to not talk to him about it – she'd been called a 'whore' more times than she could count, but reverse the roles and boys will be boys. She refused to just accept that he could act like that and never acknowledge that it happened.

Being a stripper had never been easy for Ziva, but her heart was in the right place, and shame was there but it had never utterly consumed her. Doing the wrong thing for the right reason had never _felt _shameful. And then poor, sweet Tony had come along and tried to help her, he'd charmed her sister into an unlikely friendship and fixed her life, but in the process, he had given her something to be ashamed of.

And worst of all, she'd fallen for him through it all.

...

"That was beautiful," a voice said from behind her. Tony was leaning against the wall, having come in without her noticing. She bowed her head.

"Thank you," she said quietly. She didn't know how to start. She didn't _want _a confrontation but she couldn't ignore this. Eventually, he spoke first.

"You okay? You seemed a little pensive today."

"So did you," she countered, her defences automatic and dangerous and she was willing them to stop but they wouldn't. Her mind seemed intent on ensuring that he didn't get inside her head. He was good at that.

"I was just . . . thinking."

"About?" she asked.

"Work, mostly," he answered. 'Mostly' being the key word. There was something else.

"Listen, I was talking to Danny, and he said he just 'couldn't believe us'. I didn't know what he meant and he told me . . . he told me the way you usually are . . . w-with women. Strippers. I . . ." her voice began to fade away.

"Ziva," he started, though not finishing.

"You were one of them? All this time?" She looked so defeated, and it killed him, it really did. "You were just another one of those drooling sex-crazed men who only love women for their bodies?"

"I'm gonna kill Danny," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"I trusted you!" she said, her volume climbing steadily. "I trusted you and you somehow failed to mention that _this _is who you are? Did I fall for a facade?"

"There's a reason I didn't tell you, Ziva."

She stood up. Her expression had morphed from sad to bitter. "Because you're a liar?" It was the first real jab at him. She couldn't stop herself. She didn't try to.

"Because I'm ashamed of it!" he exclaimed. "You think I'm proud of all that stuff? It wasn't so long ago that I was a complete idiot, but I _wanted_ to change! I just never had a reason."

She shook her head. "I thought you were different." Honestly, she was scared of where this could go. Words spilled uncontrollably from her lips before she could stop them.

"Really, Ziva?! You're judging me on my past? That's a little hypocritical, don't you think?"

She gasped and rose from the creaky piano stool to stand close to him. He had crossed a very dangerous line. "How dare you, Tony! You _know_ why I did what I did. I did it for a little girl who _needed _me. I had no parents and no money and nobody who gave a _shit _about my life! You don't know what that is like." There were tears streaming down her cheeks, and her voice had a raw edge.

"No, you're right. I don't," he admitted. "But people change, Ziva. Look at you?"

"At me? You were the one who changed me, Tony. Were you ashamed of me? Is that why you got me that job?"

"I was trying to help you! I didn't fall in love with a _stripper, _Ziva. I fell in love with a girl who is amazing and kind and generous and selfless and smart and beautiful!"

"Don't say beautiful. Don't say it." She took a step back from him. She didn't want to hear that from him. Not now.

"You are. And you know you are. But I love you for so many other reasons other than all of that. That's not me. You know that's not me. That guy that Danny told you about. You fell in love with me, too. Not with that guy. He's gone."

She closed her eyes, and tears fell. "I know." She touched his chest. "I know, but I can't help but feel like I might be reliving someone else's story. Like there was some other girl like me who you cared for and nursed back to health and I cannot have it end the same way. I cannot get thrown out on my ass, Tony. I have to worry about somebody other than myself."

"Ziva I've never loved anyone like I love you. You know that." He cupped her cheek but she turned away.

"I don't, though. I thought that that night I was wrong and that you were actually some kind of knight in shining armour but I had you pegged from the first second I saw you. And I was right. I _don't_ have time for a Tony DiNozzo in my life."

So this is what heartbreak felt like. "Ziva, please," he was pleading with her.

"You aren't the grocery man anymore, Tony."

"This shouldn't change anything."

It shouldn't. She knew that. "But it does. Can you go, please?"

"Not until I fix this," he argued.

"You cannot fix ME," she pressed.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I'm not letting you go. The past is the past. Aren't I entitled to a few mistakes?

She paused before looking up at him. "You never told me."

"I tried to tell you, that night that your Aunt Nettie called."

"That's not true!"

"No, Ziva, everything _you _are saying is not true," he spat. "You're terrified. You're just a scared little girl who let herself fall in love with a guy who, God forbid, might not actually be perfect! And I'm sorry, Ziva, I truly am, that I couldn't be perfect for you because I tried but you aren't going to let me! Are you? Because you're _too scared of your own feelings to take a risk."_

She swallowed. "Get out."

"Ziva, wait, I –"

"Now. Please."

He slammed the door on the way out. She finally let herself cry properly. Her existence felt like little more than an existence now that he had walked out of it.

**Author's Note: I just want to point out that by doing this I was making a point about the characters: Just like in canon, they have ****_flaws. _****It's always darkest before dawn, etc. In order for things to get better, they sometimes have to get worse first, and the best things come from hardship. This story, like most, is not a fairytale. Having said that, a happy ending is not out of the question. In fact, it is very much in the question.**


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26—

Ziva was frighteningly silent for most of the evening. She went to Tali after Tony left, and cooked her dinner. They ate quietly. Tali was too worried to say anything, or to eat much, really. But she did not want to hurt Ziva's feelings, so she gobbled up every last bite. They watched TV together afterwards, but Tali kept turning to watch her sister. This was not the happy, in-love girl she'd seen the day before. And Ziva knew that she could not be fooled. She had barely tried to hide the fact that she felt miserable. But of course, that backfired on her.

"Ziva, what's wrong? Are you sick?" Tali asked. Ziva shook her head, and feeling a pang of guilt that she was worrying her sister. God, she was being selfish. She couldn't do that. She wished she could, sometimes. But it wasn't an option. "D-did you and Tony have a fight?"

"We did," Ziva answered with a crack in her voice.

Tali did not point out that just yesterday things had been perfect. Tali had learned that perfection's biggest flaw was that it was always temporary – which meant it wasn't _really _perfection, after all. Ziva and Tony had _seemed _perfect together, though. Their time couldn't be over this quickly, could it? Surely Ziva had earned longer happiness that what she received.

"He loves you," Tali promised.

"I know he does."

"Then what's wrong?"

"It is complicated."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be."

Tali kissed her sister's temple in the way that made Ziva feel like the roles should be reversed. She didn't say anything else. She didn't ask what had happened. She just left.

Ziva heard the taps running in the bathroom and Tali brushing her teeth, and she heard the rustling of sheets, but after that, she didn't hear anything. The silence consumed her and she pulled her knees, covered by thinned sweats, up to her chin.

Anything that would have made Ziva feel better on a hard night – which was typically the time-consuming task of watching _The Sound of Music _or whatever was on TV, really. Something she could lose herself in. But now all that just reminded her of him. That was the irritating thing about connotations – they were either joyous or pitiful and there was little resting room between the two.

The worst part was knowing that she almost wanted to be reminded of him every second. She had let herself fall, and thinking about him had become habit. This had never been her intention.

She fell onto her bed on top of the covers. Her hand moved to her hair, running her fingers through her own messy curls. Tony had touched her there only two nights ago. Her fingers followed his path – down her neck, across her collarbone, ghosting down her ribcage and settling at her hip. She ached to have his hands on her more than she cared to admit. Nobody had touched her like he had touched her. Nobody had ravished in the sight of her, and nobody had told her that he liked how soft she was.

She thought back to that night – it seemed forever ago now, though it wasn't – the night that they had first met. She'd pinpointed him, and she'd analysed him. Yes, he had just been another client, another guy, but from the get-go, there _had _been something different about him.

She'd strutted over to him and parted her legs to dance over him, her hips circling to the sound of the music, and he'd visibly fought himself not to make a sound, not to objectify her. He hadn't touched her until she told him to do so. He'd been nervous.

For a guy whose reputation was with girls in similar occupations, he had seemed apprehensive.

Maybe he had been trying to turn away from that lifestyle after all. Make a clean break.

She discarded these thoughts out of fatigue and fell asleep against her pillow.

...

Tony had kicked a hole in the wall beside the outside door of her apartment after leaving. He was furious. Not with her – he could never be – with himself.

The odds had been against from the beginning. Maybe this was best. Maybe being apart would save them the heartbreak. But nothing truly worth it came without heartbreak, and he _knew _that. He knew the second he saw her that she would be worth heartbreak, and yet the universe told them no. Everyone told them no.

Was he crazy? Was falling in love with her his way of convincing himself that he was better than the women and the drinking and the partying, or had he really changed? These questions repeated themselves over and over in his head on the way home.

He couldn't believe Danny had said anything, for a start. He _had _tried to tell her – he knew that if not told properly it would . . . well, it would go down like this. But he knew it was going to be important. He was waiting for the right time, and for the correct phrasing to come to mind.

And he couldn't believe the way he'd acted in his own defence. He'd been so desperate to try and make her not so unbelievably angry that he had actually made it worse.

He'd lost her. The only girl he'd ever loved and he'd lost her.

Even the strongest drink in his cabinet did not soothe the aching. A glass rim was much more unforgiving than her soft lips were.

...

Work the next day just sucked. It was eight hours of avoiding gazes and running away from each other and it drove both of them completely crazy.

As soon as Danny walked into the office, Tony had pulled him aside.

"I would just like to sincerely thank you for killing my relationship," Tony said, bluntly.

"She ended it?"

"Don't you get it? _She_ was a stripper!" his voice was harsh and whispered. "To think that I was some kind of mindless, drooling hormone machine, worthlessly objectifying women who don't deserve it . . . does nothing for the relationship."

"She took it really personally, huh?"

Tony's face remained still as stone. "You are supposed to be my best friend, Dan. You've done nothing to cause me anything but trouble."

"I didn't wanna see you get hurt."

"Bet it's satisfying to know that you are the one responsible for hurting me, but thanks. Really." Not really.

...

In spite of it all, just past noon, there was a sandwich on her desk. She looked across the office floor at him. There was nobody around.

"Tony," she said, and he turned his head, like he was forgetting that they hadn't spoken. "Did you –"

"It's not a gesture or anything," he interrupted. "It's not my version of flowers or something. Not that I wouldn't send you flowers – I mean, I would if I thought it would make a difference but you're smarter than that. I just thought you might be hungry."

She gave him a grateful nod and bit into her sandwich and he looked at her, happy, for a lingering moment.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27—

Ziva and Tony continued not exchanging words, in a process comprised of stubbornness and hurt and fear. Sometimes she would be caught looking at him and she may as well have said something, but she still did not. She could not. It did not feel right to. That process lasted nearly a month. Four straight, monotonous weeks. It was a good thing she liked her job independently of loving him, so she kept coming in every morning and putting up with it.

Tony struggled to keep himself in line. After all, he had spent far less time rationalising with his feelings than Ziva had. He had told himself he had nothing to lose in falling for Ziva, when in fact that had been a very, very false statement. Sure, she had Tali – a heartbreak was the last thing she needed. But him? He had nobody. He could fall in and out of love at his leisure. In theory, that is. Real life rarely words like that.

It was the 'out' of love that he was having the most trouble with. Ziva David was easy to fall for and difficult to forget, especially when she sat only a few feet away every day with her beautiful eyes and her chocolate curls and her perfect lips and that subtle touch of vanilla that seemed to follow her wherever she went. Habit had been surprisingly hard on him, and wanting to smile and stare and touch her was a desire that did not leave him alone no matter how many times their last argument replayed inside his head.

He had said some horrible things to her that night. He didn't know why, in retrospect. Maybe his heart was trying to defend itself. Maybe he thought the truth would shock her into thinking logically. Whatever the reason was, it no longer existed. He was not sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

The worst thing was the proximity. There was no clean break, if that was what she wanted. There was no getaway. She was always there. He wondered if she was aching as much as he was. He wondered if it was killing her not to say something or if her blood still boiled at the sight of him.

He knew he couldn't wish away that night – a confrontation like that had been inevitable. A fight can serve to strengthen or to fatally wound and unfortunately for them, it had been the latter.

...

One Wednesday, he was craving the gentle numbness of a strong drink, and he found it at a little, quiet bar he liked, not far from the precinct. He sat alone, on a high stool. The bartender filled his glass twice before somebody sat next to him. It was Danny.

"What do _you _want?" Tony sneered, his voice muffled by the glass curled around his lips.

"To talk," Danny said. "You're pissed."

"Really? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Look, just let me explain – "

Tony wrapped his fingers around his glass and hurled it to the floor. The heads of the few people that were in the bar turned towards him as he grabbed Danny by the collar.

"Listen, you asshole, you and your big mouth cost me the best relationship I've ever had. You know how that makes me feel? 'Cause it's not great. At all. In fact, I hate it." The alcohol on his breath was strong by this point.

"I know I shouldn't have said it, I forgot how Ziva would have reacted," Danny replied, his mouth going a million miles an hour.

"Yeah, but that's not the point – what you told her wasn't yours to tell. And I'll thank you to keep your mouth shut all the time now. Don't talk to me. I'll liaise with the feds on this case."

Danny gulped. "And after that?"

Tony studied his partner's eyes. "We'll see."

He released the shorter man and everyone in the bar turned away. Danny placed a twenty on the counter, paying for his drink and the glass, and left.

...

After dawn the next morning, Tony left his apartment and parked his Mustang up the road from the station. He had one of those drive-thru coffees, and he held it in both hands to keep warm. He was across from Ziva's building, not watching, just sitting. He needed a minute. He was tired and hung over and today would be ultimately gruelling if he was not completely careful.

He had to spend all day with a throbbing head watching her be seemingly okay while he was suffering and wishing that she would just _love him again, for the love of God. _But even though he'd given her charity before, she had ended up owing him nothing. Not even her love. He could not demand that of her – not that he would want to. It was his only wish to have her love back, but only by her own free will.

His train of thought was broken by a _tap tap tap _on the window of his car. The brown eyes scared him, and for a moment he thought it was Ziva, but it was just Tali, on the way to school.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking happy despite her question.

"Just taking a moment before work," he replied, holding up his coffee.

"Have you talked to Ziva? She's really upset."

"She is?" Tony was intrigued.

"She's been all quiet and stressed and it's scaring me."

"She's your rock, huh?"

Tali nodded. "Can't you just send her flowers or something?"

He actually smiled at her. "I wish it were that simple, kiddo. I really do. But unfortunately for yours truly, Ziva knows very well that I am still very much in love with her. It's more what I _did, _not to her, but before I met her, that's upsetting her."

"So sending flowers would just be confirming something that she already knew?"

"Exactly. Plus, she'd think I didn't understand what was wrong – no, your sister is far too smart for flowers."

Tali paused for a moment, staring down at her shoes. "It sucks not having you around anymore."

"Same here, kid."

"Do you think . . ." Tali stopped talking and turned around. Ziva was approaching her. She was about to tell her off for talking to a stranger but then she realised whose car it was. Without speaking to Tony, Ziva held up a sandwich wrapped in cling wrap.

"You forgot your lunch," she explained. Tali took it and mumbled a 'thank you' before giving one last pleading look to Tony and heading off to the bus stop. Ziva swallowed, staring down at Tony, who looked straight ahead, through the open car window. "Are you going to get out of the car?"

Tony did not move. "I wasn't planning on it just yet."

"Okay," she replied, and walked cautiously around the back of the car and slid into the passenger's seat. "Would you tell me what Tali said? Is she alright?"

"Why wouldn't she be?" Tony asked, and he seemed willing to talk properly if there was a threat to Tali. He cared about her, too.

"Because, I think losing you may have been hard on her. She does not have many male figures around her, and you were important."

"I didn't abandon you, you know," he said, out of pure defence for himself. She had ended – she had to own that.

"I know you didn't." She wasn't angry. He had every right to be upset. They both did. "But still, I am worried."

"She's just as worried about you."

"Everything happened so quickly – I wish had considered her more. But . . . it would be wrong to change things between us for her sake."

"There's gotta be a better reason, then. Right? 'Cause I gotta tell you, Ziva, I really, really hate this."

"Me too," she admitted, staring downwards. "But I can't stop thinking about everything. What you said that night. Maybe I am afraid of my own feelings. And maybe that is why I reacted so badly."

"What do you mean?" His voice was soft and low, like he was afraid of tipping her.

"I mean I was just so scared of my feelings that the possibility of a flaw made me want to escape. Like, I saw a chance at heartbreak and was simply pre-empting all of that. I should not have done that to you. You did not deserve it." She reached over and touched his hand.

"For what it's worth," he replied slowly, his fingers trembling at her touch. "If it were anyone else I'd be crazy right now, but you could drive me off a cliff and I wouldn't stop loving you."

"Me neither," she said, looking at him, a bitter-sweet smile crossing her face. Her hand lifted to his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Ziva. I really am."

"No, I am. To judge you on your past . . . I should never have done it. I _know _that man is gone. I fell in love with somebody knew, and he is still here, and he still loves me. And I am so lucky for that."

"Like the stars and the waves and the flowers?" he asked. He had asked her that on the first night they made love. From a quote from that French movie they watched together. She nodded, and he kissed her for the first time in a month, and he never wanted to let her go.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28—

The incessant beeping of a wristwatch – they did not know whose – seemed to silence the sound of their hearts beating and of breath tickling kissed skin. Ziva's unbelievably brown eyes opened slowly to meet his, and a flicker of fear was present in her. He did not know why.

Her fingers brushed the stubble on his cheeks as she pulled back from him. The muscles in her neck twitched as she swallowed and she stared at his hands, which were stretched out to touch her waist, until he felt the burn of her gaze and he removed them from her.

"We should go," she said. She wished she sounded more certain than she did, and she wished Tony wasn't so good at reading her, or that he may not pick up on it. "Work."

While work was a priority, especially for somebody as dedicated as Ziva, he hadn't thought it would be _the _priority. He loved his job, but when it came to Ziva he wanted nothing more than to put her first, put _them _first. Was that feeling unreciprocated?

"Hold on," he said quietly, but she was already sliding out of her car and onto the sidewalk. She wore a red scarf around her neck, and he watched it flap in the wind and miss getting caught in the door by mere millimetres. He got out of the car and followed her. "Ziva!" he called.

She turned around, and the icy morning wind blew her hair about wildly. But she stayed silent and still.

"Can we talk about this for a second?" He had made his way over to her, and taken hold of her hands.

"Later, we can talk later," she insisted, pulling away and taking a few paces in the opposite direction.

"Ziva, _wait," _he snapped, sternly. He took a deep breath, and a cloud appeared in front of his face when he exhaled, from the cold. "I don't want to do this if you're tiptoeing around me to avoid conflict. If that's what you're trying to do, then it makes me think that you might have let me kiss you for convenience."

"_Let _you? What the hell, Tony?" She took a step back to him. Her eyes had thinned and her brows were close together. Despite the height difference between them, she could be rather intimidating. "Did I not tell you that I loved you?"

"You did," he said, guiltily.

"If I did not think that us being together was the right thing, then I would not be doing it. And since I do think that it is the right thing, do my motives matter?" She was choosing her words carefully, he could tell.

"No, they don't." He looked disheartened, though, and that made her feel bad. Tilting her head to the side, she placed both hands against his chest, and pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to press her lips to his ever so lightly, and he pulled her close, placing his own hands intimately at the small of her back. When they pulled apart for breath, there was barely even a space between them.

"We'll talk later," she whispered. "I promise."

"Okay," he replied, letting his hands fall to his sides. They walked together the remaining distance from the sidewalk to the station. Not hand in hand, just side by side. Tony felt apprehension setting in, accompanied by a deep inner confliction. On one hand, he was so happy to have her back beside him, but on the other, it didn't feel real yet. It felt as if perhaps the dangerous territory was not behind them yet.

...

His fear soon left him. She began sending him smiles across the office, like she was trying to reassure him, and it worked pretty quickly.

He realised eventually that what had scared him was the surprise that it had been dangerously easy to fall into each other after only a month apart. Like love broken and repaired did not come along so easily. Or maybe it did. Truth be told, he didn't really have any idea.

Perhaps there had been some foreign influence on the both of them, that love was only love once, and stubbornness should suppress any urges that say otherwise. But the scary part was that they had been so very stubborn and let themselves be heartbroken despite never having loved anybody else. Much care had to be taken, or one of them could inflict serious damage on the other.

And as she smiled at him, he found himself smiling back, and once more letting her hold his heart in the palm of her hand.

...

For most of the afternoon, Tony was gone from his desk. He and Danny worked in the kind of way that co-workers work, and interacted in the kind of way that partners interact, but it was not the relationship between two best friends. The boyish shoves and punches and goofy smiles had disappeared, and she missed it about both of them.

But, at least, they were civil. Danny seemed reluctant to ever speak first, and Tony seemed reluctant to speak at all unless it was about their case. There was a third man with them, and Ziva noticed – ever-observant as she was – that they seemed better when he was around. The third man was tall and older, with silver hair cut like a Marine's. Tony had said their case was surrounding a sailor – perhaps this man had something to do with the investigation. He carried a gun and a gold badge but she was never close enough to read it and she did not recognise it.

She could recognise, however, that Tony was a little intimidated by this guy. Maybe he could intimidate him into being friends with Danny again.

...

The sun was setting when they walked out onto the street together. Golden beams of light were stretched out over the buildings, which were half-cloaked in long, dark shadows. They reached his car, parked directly opposite her building, and they both stopped. The silence was sweet, but it was far too ongoing.

"You should forgive him," Ziva said softly, her head down. "He's your best friend."

"Not anymore," Tony answered, and he sounded perfectly casual about it, though she knew he was not.

"You know, our relationship ending was not his fault," she told him, and as the words left her mouth, she regretted the phrasing. It sounded as if she was blaming him for everything. She was unsure of whether or not she was.

Tony combed his fingers through his messy, unmaintained hair so that it stood up on all ends. "But he was a trigger. And he put his nose in where it didn't belong. If I had told you about everything then your reaction could have been different. We might have been able to get past it. The past month might not have been total hell."

"He never wanted to hurt you, Tony," she said, reaching out for him.

"He thought you were bad news, you know."

Ziva let out a little smile. "Well, I am, aren't I?" She leaned against the side of his car and he went to her side, sliding an arm around her waist.

"Oh, I missed you," he whispered ever so softly. She kissed his cheek and he smiled. After a minute or so, he spoke again: "Can I be honest?"

"Of course."

"I know that it was what I did that made you leave, but I can't help feeling like maybe it wasn't so much about me."

"You were right," she said. "You were right about all of it. I was scared of my own feelings. And I still am." He sighed. "But doesn't that say something about how much I love you?"

"Yeah," he said.

"I should never have done that to you. I know that I hurt you."

"Maybe . . . maybe that's _your_ thing, you know? The flaw? You're a heartbreaker. Not by intention, just by nature."

Her expression became solemn. "I may have danced for them, Tony, but I have never had intentions of breaking a man's heart. And I especially do not intend to break yours."

"That's the thing about nature – it tends to be more powerful than intention. Some people believe that love is the absence of flaws, but really it's the acceptance of it."

"That is certainly a lesson we have learned the hard way," she said, with a crooked smile.

"But we have learned it, right?"

"We have."

Their idle hands became entangled. They were like opposite ends of a magnet – fused together any time they were in close proximity.

"I don't wanna screw this up again," he confessed. "We are worth more than our own individual flaws."

"Wise words," she quipped.

"You better believe it."

He walked her to her door.

"Are you coming in?" she asked, the hand trailing up his arm just slightly suggestive.

"Not tonight. The hot-and-cold of this whole thing probably isn't good for Tali to be around. You should talk to her."

She understood, and knew he was right. "I am glad that we fixed things."

"Me too," he said earnestly, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "Tali will be, too. She seemed adamant to inform me that you simply couldn't _live without me." _A mischievous smile crossed his face. He was kidding, of course.

"I will kill her," Ziva vowed with a laugh.

There was a beat before Tony looked from the floor to her eyes. "I love you," he said simply.

"I love you too."

Things between them had never felt so simple.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 –

"You're later than usual," Tali said, not even looking up from her book to watch Ziva walk through the crooked door of their apartment. She didn't sound angry – just observant.

Ziva laughed. "I thought it was _my _job to take care of _you._"

Tali smiled bashfully, snapped her book shut with a _thud, _swung her legs off the side of the sofa and wrapped her arms around her sister without a word of warning.

Ziva hugged her back, of course, but was a little surprised. Tali had never been big on physical affection.

The younger girl pulled back with a frown. "You smell," she observed.

Ziva scoffed. "Thanks!" she replied sarcastically.

"No, you smell like . . ." She sniffed again. "Cologne?" There was a pause, before she gasped and her eyes lit up. "Did you talk to Tony? After I left?"

Ziva hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. Tali gave a 'whoop' and threw her fist victoriously into the air.

"Why the enthusiasm?" Ziva asked, though deep down, she was just glad that Tali was glad.

"Because Tony makes you happy," she answered without a second's thought. "You can see it. You haven't been happy without him. I hate it when you're like that."

"That was a lot before he came around, hm?" Ziva said, a little sadly, stroking her sisters unruly hair.

"Yeah."

"You know you're still my favourite, okay?"

Tali grinned. "Oh, I know. No question!"

...

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Ziva asked for the millionth time.

"It's okay, Ziva. I'm tired, anyway. I'll just go to sleep," Tali assured her.

"God, you're grown up," Tony interrupted, looking almost proud.

"The neighbours are at home. They said they would be happy to help you if you need. Or you can call me."

"You used to leave me at home every night, Ziva, it's _okay. _Really." Truthfully, Tali did not like being left alone, but Ziva had not spend a night without her since changing jobs. It had been months. And since Tony and Ziva had gotten back together, it had been three and a half weeks of Tali feeling like she was infringing on their time together – which was limited as it was. She insisted that they go out to dinner – she had even looked up the restaurant they should go to.

"Ziva, we're gonna miss our reservations," Tony prompted, trying not to sound too pushy. He ended up sounding far too adoring for the words to have any real effect. He couldn't help it.

"We'll be back by ten," Ziva promised.

"We live within a few hundred yards of a Police Department, Ziva," Tali reminded her. "I'll be safe. Don't worry. Not to mention, my sweet self-defence skills. Thanks to _Abba._"

"Abba?" Tony asked.

"Our father," Ziva informed him in a hushed voice. It was rare for Tali to mention their parents. She had been so young, especially when their father died. Too young to find even the most obvious of Eli's flaws. In some ways, Ziva envied her for that. In others, not at all. It would be strange to live in a world where Eli David even slightly resembled the perfect father, which he most certainly was not. The perfect father, for example, did not raise his children like pigs for slaughter for the sake of his precious Mossad.

Ziva reluctantly closed the door on Tali. When she looked up at Tony, he was smiling at her.

"What?" she asked, still holding the door handle.

"Permission to make inappropriate comment?" he requested.

She smiled with avid curiosity. "Granted."

"That dress is . . . _hot._"

Ziva laughed loudly and tapped his cheek with her fingertips. The dress was plain and black and pretty modest – nothing extravagant. And still, he responded to it. Even a comment so basic made her inconceivably happy for some strange reason. It was an assurance that after everything – the tears, the drama, the seriousness of their relationship for the most part – he could still make a light-hearted comment and it could make her smile. He could call her hot or sexy and it was okay because they were past caring about where they had come from. They were past being overly complicated. And they were past it because they had both accepted that it would be a fault to them both if they did not make the most out of what they had.

...

By eight thirty, dinner was over. Tony sipped at a beer and Ziva at a soda because she was still a little on edge about Tali.

"You seem tense," Tony observed.

"I'm fine. It was just strange, leaving her," Ziva replied, anxiously fiddling with her gold necklace.

"I bet this restaurant's doing nothing for that, though. It's loud and hot. We could go to my apartment if you – "

Ziva didn't really listen. She took a deep breath and began staring at the couples and groups at the surrounding tables, studying them closely. "It's like . . . I'm . . ." She wasn't sure what to say next.

"Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of?"

She looked back to him. "Exactly."

"_Breakfast at Tiffany's. _Great movie."

Her gaze floated on his lips for a few seconds before she spoke again. "Let's get out of here."

...

"I can't believe you haven't seen it!" Tony said again, as he walked through the door of his apartment, with Ziva following him. She had lost count of the amount of times he had expressed his disbelief since they left the restaurant. "It's a _classic_."

"Shut _up," _she growled, before pinning him to the wall kissing him deeply and suddenly, catching him by such surprise that it was a few seconds before his hands inevitably lifted to hold her by the waist.

Her hands clawed through his hair and she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He fought back a groan and she laughed against his lips. _That ought to keep him quiet. _

"Whoa," he panted when she finally stepped back from him, with a look nothing less than sultry in her eyes. "What was that for?"

"Well, I do like kissing you, Tony," she said, the words bouncing against his skin at such close proximity.

"You seem less on edge," he pushed out, hardly able to focus on anything other than that Ziva's body was pressed right up against his.

"You're good at making me feel like that," she told him, and that comment alone was less to get his attention and more to be honest. She slipped her fingers underneath his shirt to touch his skin, and he sucked in a breath.

"The way you're going, you're going to feel a _whole lot _better," he told her daringly, before kissing her again.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30—

For Tali, being home alone was one of the best things. She could read in peace, or she could play her music loudly (though not too loudly, for fear of complaining neighbours). And mostly, she could be sure – unlike all the other times she had been left alone in her life – that Ziva was out somewhere, having fun for herself.

It had been pointed out to her that though Ziva was protective of younger Tali by instinct, the emotion was quite mutual. Her entire life, Tali had watched her sister be dragged roughly through the dirt by life and she had never felt it fair. She had hated watching their parents discard her the way they often had, and she hated that Ziva had had to drop out of high school. She hated that she'd worked for that total scumbag, Scorpion. She hated that she had had her heart broken.

She hated all those things, because of all the people in the world, Tali loved Ziva the most. Watching somebody she loved have it so hard and not being able to do anything about it . . . it just _sucked. _

But then Tony had come along, and he _had _been able to do something about it. She had thought maybe, someone appearing and stealing the heart of the girl who pretended she did not have one would make Tali sad or neglected, but it just made her glad that Ziva was alright. He _had_ known how to make a difference, and – though Tali had no idea how – he seemed to know her better than anybody else.

She supposed that was love, though. These past few months, she had learned a lot about love. She had learned that it was flawed and dangerous and sometimes painful, but still the closest to perfection that any human could come to. It was primal and ageless and delicate as a feather but strong as diamonds.

Tali hoped, in the innocence that she sometimes could not help but let it take over her, that her sister and the man she had fallen in love with should see no need to part ways again. It was much too painful.

The young girl pretended to be asleep when she heard familiar voices at the door, whispering to keep quiet. She smiled into her pillow.

"Tonight was fun," she heard Tony say, and she could hear the smirk on his face.

"It was." Out in the living room, where Tali could not see, the fingers of the two entangled, and they lingered for a seemingly endless moment where they could just be with each other. There were few of those moments. One of them had been at Tony's apartment, earlier that evening:

...

_A few hours earlier..._

Oh, how he loved lying beside her. The lamp light by his bed cast a soft glow over the room, and he lay there, watching her. His eyes protested, willing him to submit to tempting sleep, but he ignored them, keeping them open just to look at her.

Her back was to him, and the comforter had fallen down to her waist, revealing to him the clear, vast expanse of honey skin that was her back. Her hair was everywhere, but he didn't mind. It smelled like some weird fruity shampoo that, honestly, he had thought she was too tough to use. It made him smile. Everything about her did.

The feeling of having her back, though, was almost intimidating – strange.

Some greeting card somewhere that he would never send her would say that fate had brought them together in the first place, and fate had pulled them apart. It had been 'fate' tempting them and taunting them, tugging at the strings of their already aching hearts. But in such a life, it was all one could do to convince themselves that yes, life was a dangerous and random progression of molecules and that fate, some invisible being was the one to blame for the apparently unpreventable mishaps. Fate was a scapegoat.

But in moments like these, where she was so close, and so very beautiful, Tony could only think that it was all them. Fate had nothing to do with it. Their relationship, however short it was (though he often found himself not remembering) was a period of time punctuated with heartbreak, separation and tragedy and he had almost believed that fate was not going to give them another chance. But fate, he realised, did not have a choice in the matter.

He loved her too damn much to let somebody else decide.

He reminded her of that as she woke him at a quarter to ten with feather-light kisses across her bare skin.

...

"Goodnight," Tony whispered, and there was silence. They were kissing. Ziva clung to his jacket.

"Stay."

"Can't. Work," he pressed out, his words muffled by her lips. "And Tali's here."

"Always assuming," she said with a smile. "Maybe I just wanted company."

Tony glanced sideways at the clock on her wall. "I could do that."

...

He fell asleep with her in his arms, under the covers, his hand in her hair. His lips pressed limply to her temple. Their chests rising and falling almost in unison. Ziva snored sometimes, but didn't now, with him so near. Tali, from her room, smiled at that observation.

All wrapped up in each other was how Tali found them and woke them the next morning at seven fifteen.

Tali snorted as she laughed when they opened their eyes wide in alarm to see her standing there, like it was some huge deal. Both of them were fully clothed. Even so, Tony dashed out of bed and away from the girls in a second. Ziva sat up and called out in protest, missing his warmth already.

She understood him being jumpy, though. They had never been intimate in front of her; it was just something they agreed not to do. For Ziva's fear of Tali feeling inadequate or neglected, mostly. Tali was still her first priority. Nothing had changed.

"Did he stay here?" Tali asked, still laughing.

"Yes, he did. Sorry. I would have told you," Ziva explained tiredly. "But I did not know."

"It's okay. I don't mind." She glanced into the kitchen, where Tony was nervously pouring himself a bowl of cereal. "He's funny."

"He is just trying to look out for you, you know. That is why he ran away."

Both girls made their way into the kitchen. Ziva was in a T-shirt and tiny little shorts that she had worn to bed. Tony's gaze latched onto her the second she walked in without her thinking. Tali laughed again and he shook it off, pretending it never happened.

"You don't need to pretend like I'm a five year old, Tony," Tali insisted. "I mean, you are Ziva's _boyfriend_."

Tony looked across the kitchen at Ziva and smiled. "Yeah, you're right," he said. She circled the counter and kissed him on the cheek.

"French toast, anyone?" Tony offered.

"You can make French toast?" Tali asked.

"Well, I can make regular toast and serve it to you in a French accent."

Ziva hugged him, resting her head of messy curls against his chest. "Sounds good to me," she said.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: So sorry for the delay. If you've been anywhere near my tumblr, you'll know that real life has been absolutely crazy. I have had rehearsals all over the place, have been away from home, parties, homework, the usual stuff. Sorry to all the people who messaged asking about the lateness, but here it is! The first scene was originally not included, but I added it because I felt guilty for making you wait so long. **

Chapter 31—

Tali dashed off to school about ten minutes before Tony and Ziva had to leave for work. Aside from the pleasure that came from staying with her, in her _bed_, the geographical convenience was amazing. Being a stone's throw from his workplace was definitely a perk of the relationship, but of course he'd never be that shallow.

"Alone at last," Ziva said, still munching on Tony's not-French toast. It was a joke, but he twitched his eyebrows suggestively in reply. "Oh, come on, Tony, you have to show a little control." She conveyed exasperation, but she smiled as he reached over and grabbed her arm, pulling her into his reach.

"Why?" he asked, their faces unbelievably close. "Maybe you're just irresistible."

"Maybe," she replied, brushing her lips against his. It was the barest touch, and he gripped her waist almost in protest. She laughed darkly and dug her nails the slightest bit into his flesh through his shirt, just to tease him. "We have ten minutes."

"Ten? I have a reputation to protect, you know," he told her, kisses separating his words. Their noses touched and he tilted his chin with superiority.

"Your secret's safe with me," she whispered before hooking a leg around his waist and catching his gasped response with her lips.

...

They looked a little more than dishevelled when they arrived to work. Unfortunately for them both, Ziva did not spot that Tony's buttons were done up crookedly until they were in the elevator.

"Here, let me," she insisted, turning to face him and unbuttoning his shirt to fix it and assure that each button was properly aligned. His chest was still almost entirely exposed when the doors opened to their floor, and a tall, chestnut-haired man whom Ziva did not know was standing before them. She stepped away in embarrassment and Tony hurried to fix himself up.

"Stan," he greeted uncomfortably with a nod. The man nodded back in a way that Ziva had always noticed and found amusing in men. Like they were so comfortable talking about sexual stuff until it actually happened. Not that what had just transpired in the elevator had been _sexual _. . .

"DiNozzo, I was just looking for you," he said cocking his head in the general direction of Tony and Danny's (and Ziva's, but that was unlikely to be the reason for this man's presence).

"Oh yeah?" Tony asked, glad to have something else to talk about and suddenly less embarrassed. "What's dragged you up from the second floor?"

"Just follow me – I gotta talk to Price as well."

The man finished speaking and looked hesitantly towards Ziva. She smiled at him.

_Always the charmer, _Tony thought affectionately. "This is Detective Stan Burley," he said to Ziva, gesturing between them. "Stan, this is Ziva."

Stan's outstretched hand dropped alarmingly quickly to his side at the mention of her name. "Ah. Miss David, is it?" She nodded with a look of concern on her face. "You should come too."

Any concern of Ziva's only made Tony catch up with Stan's brisk walk faster.

"That was some red light behaviour back there, DiNozzo. Your reputation precedes you but not that much," Stan said under his breath so Ziva wouldn't hear, stifling an amused smile.

"My shirt buttons were crooked – she was fixing them," he explained, though he realised as he spoke the words how ridiculous they sounded.

"And she's your girlfriend, I know," Stan finished. "Come on, we gotta talk." They arrived at Danny's desk, and he was already in. He looked up at the three of them.

"What's goin' on, Burley?" Danny asked.

"It's your guy Scorpion. Went to trial two days ago," Stan opened with.

"And?" Tony prompted.

"They didn't charge him."

"You mean the jury found him _innocent_?" Danny asked in disbelief. Tony put an arm around a shocked Ziva completely out of reflex.

"Why weren't Ziva and I called in to testify?" Tony demanded angrily.

"The lawyer that got given the case – I know him. He's an ass. Doesn't like witnesses," Stan explained, not seeming happy about it.

"Doesn't _like _witnesses?" Tony spat.

"Yeah, he says they're . . . look, I don't know. But it turns out Scorpion's family's loaded. They got him a real good lawyer. Talkin' all kinds of bullshit about how you and Ziva provoked him and how he was simply trying to will her to come back to _dance _for him."

Ziva was breathing hard now, and her grip on Tony's hand was tightening by the second. She swallowed and whispered, "Excuse me, I need some air," before slipping out of the office. He didn't go after her immediately; he had to hear the end of this.

"Do you know the things he would have done to her had he been given the chance? He's a filthy pig – I want him off the streets. He's gonna go after her again," Tony said, throwing a fleeting glance to the back of Ziva as she walked away.

"Her?" Danny asked with scepticism. "Are you kiddin'? She totalled him. He's not gonna go anywhere near her. No, it's you we've gotta worry about."

"Me? Hey, I'm the one with the gun."

"Guys, wait, that's not all," Burley interrupted, shoving a file under their noses. "Turns out he's been arrested three times before for the same kinda stuff. Only they've never charged him. They've never found concrete enough evidence. They got him in '98, '05 and '09."

"He's been doing this that long?" Danny asked with complete surprise. They had little knowledge on Scorpion. He had not been their perpetrator do deal with. Tony and Danny were homicide detective. Until Scorpion killed someone they wouldn't deal with him.

"These girls, they're so young, Tony," Stan pressed out shakily. "Most of them younger than Ziva. They're scared. That's why nobody testified. No one ever had the guts to get up against him."

"_We would have_!" Tony hissed.

"That lawyer thought he could handle it. He thought he had Scorpion down for the count. But he beat him. Just like every. Other. Time."

"What are we gonna do?" Danny asked, his hand blindly finding the SIG in his holster. Both men looked to Tony as if the question was directly pointed at him. In a way, it was personal for him. Very personal.

"We get him."

"How?"

Tony had a plan.

...


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32—

Ziva ran away from it all. From Tony, from Danny, from this mysterious Detective Burley. She ran from them with little thought to anything else besides Burley's words. Words that told her in no uncertain terms that Scorpion _was _back. He would come after one of them. Scorpion, she knew all too well, was a vengeful man, and painfully so.

A trail of images ran through her mind, and she seemed to be conjuring up impossibly drastic and painful scenarios against her own will.

"Stop it," she whispered harshly to herself. "You're safe. You're safe." Like a mantra, told herself this. "Tony . . . Tony will protect you. _You _will protect you. You're safe."

Her eyes, downward, landed on a stone embedded into the gravel beneath her feet. She kicked it, hoping the path it followed across the ground would distract her for the tiniest second like it used to when she was a child. Alas, no such luck.

A single car flew past the building, and then silence fell, and she all of a sudden became acutely aware that she was alone.

...

"No," Ziva said sternly, minutes later. She turned on her heel and stormed through the parking lot, away from Tony, who had followed her down, as she knew he would. As if her refusal wasn't enough, an almost aggressive wind picked up, tossing her hair this way and that as she distanced from him.

"Ziva, wait!" he called, arms waving as he chased after her. Just as he began to catch up, she stopped walking and turned around abruptly, staring at him with tempestuously cold eyes. He halted violently and met her glare with reluctance and disappointment. She'd looked scared a minute ago, but now . . . now, she looked angry. He did not want that to be his fault.

"No," she said again, with more force this time. "I am not going to be a _puppet _in one of your police operations. A case that, might I add, isn't even _yours _to solve!"

"That's not the point," he insisted, trying to grab her hands. She flinched and he pulled back sadly. "It's _yours _to solve, Ziva. Don't you want to get even? Nab him for good?"

"He is not worth it, Tony, believe me," she said, her voice wavering, much to her frustration. "He is a worthless human being who deserves to die but for some reason the universe wants to keep him alive. Whether or not somebody out there finds satisfaction from locking him behind bars is _their_ business, not mine. I will be glad when he is off the streets and we are safe, but a personal vendetta is not something I have time for."

"Fine, then don't do it for you – do it for _me,_" Tony insisted, slapping his flat palm against his chest. "Do it for _us._ I know how hard it's gonna be for you, but I wouldn't have asked if we didn't need you in this Ziva."

"I am not a cop, or in law enforcement – it is not my place," she argued, but her voice was feeble.

"Are you kidding? I can't think of anybody whose place it might be. We'll get this guy, Ziva, but not without you." He reached for her hands again, and she let him take them. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, I will help."

...

"Let me get this straight, DiNozzo," Raimey said in an obnoxious, condescending voice as Tony stood before his desk like a school boy sent to the principal. "You want to use an _office aid_ for an op? _My _office aid?"

"Sir, I am aware that Miss David knows the mark well. Very well, in fact. They had a . . . somewhat professional relationship." He swallowed, but his throat was dry. He hated talking about Ziva like this. "He is more likely to divulge incriminating information if it is somebody he trusts."

This was not Tony's best case, he knew, but it was the best case he could make while simultaneously trying to 'suck up to the boss'. So, like usual, he painted the ideal end result of a risky op using buzz words and fake professionalism. He knew very well that this plan of his could very well go pear-shaped. But he also knew that it would be equally terrible for all parties involved if he did nothing, and Tony DiNozzo was not one to sit back and do nothing.

"What about the case with NCIS? Special Agent Gibbs has been calling," Raimey said.

"I talked to him yesterday. His people are pursuing a lead but for now the case is mostly being investigated in D.C. Any further discoveries will be taken up there."

"But you're still liaising with them?" Frank's fingers locked together as he stared up at Tony from his desk chair.

"Yes, just not until we finish this. Gibbs understands. He's, uh, big on personal vendettas himself."

"Not the best quality in a federal agent," Raimey said rudely.

"You have to admit it, Boss. He's good."

For a while, the Major did not say anything, but eventually, he leaned forward with an attentive gaze. "Okay, DiNozzo. You have my attention. Your plan better keep it."

...

"You clear on this, Ziva?" Tony asked of her, _again. _

"Crystal, Tony." She was trying to sound breezy, but the fear in her voice was all too obvious. He stopped what he was doing – flicking through one of the many files stacked on his little white desk – and stood straight, watching her in worry.

"Your first undercover op," Danny chimed in, also holding a file. He did not pull his eyes away from the page he was on. "Exciting stuff."

"What was yours like?" Ziva asked, searching for hope.

"I got beat up by three gang members the size of refrigerators," he replied dryly, looking to the sky and remembering that fateful day. "But it could have been worse."

"How?" McGee asked. He was up in the office assisting with ear pieces and surveillance.

"I was wearing a cup," Danny finished and McGee and Stan laughed.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Price," Stan said. "This isn't exactly an undercover op – she's going undercover as _herself _from before she met us."

"Because I did not have enough fun the first time around," Ziva said, her tone heavy with sarcasm.

"You're gonna be okay, right?" Tony asked, walking over to her. His voice was soft, but Danny, Burley and McGee were all within earshot, and turned their heads in curiosity. Tony did not even notice.

"Was that a question or a reassurance?" was her reply. She tried to smile, but honestly, she was scared. Scared of getting hurt, of seeing Scorpion, of losing herself. Or of losing him. The curl of her lips dissolved into sadness, so he covered her mouth with his own softly, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"You're gonna be okay," he repeated as Tim handed them an earpiece each and pretended not to have seen the romantic exchange. This time, it _was _a statement, and she seemed pretty convinced.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33—

Gaggles of schoolgirls gasped in surprise at the sight of a Baltimore Police Department issued vehicle lingering outside the main gates of their middle school.

Tali David approached the gates, ready to walk to the bus stop, with a girl the same age and height on either side. One of them, small, blonde and petite, held a cell phone in her fingers and was texting madly.

"Did you hear? Apparently there's a police car in the school!" she exclaimed.

"I can see it!" the girl on Tali's right said, gesturing rather grandly to the car across the road. As the girls started wildly speculating about its intentions, Tali squinted and studied the car. The window rolled down, and a familiar face – Tony's – poked out and smiled, and the horn sounded loudly.

"Bye, you guys!" Tali said suddenly before dashing off towards the car, leaving her friends standing there in confused states. She still was not so fond of police cars, but Tony was inside this one. That had to make it good.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted with a grin as soon as she was in earshot, lifting his shades onto his forehead.

"Tony," she said with an inquisitive stare, halting just a few feet from the open window. "What are you doing here?"

He tapped his fingers loudly against the door to the beat of the drums in the rock song that was playing on the radio. "Giving you a ride. You've gotta come with me to the station."

Tali frowned and tilted her head sideways, her long brown braid falling over her shoulder. "Is this because I didn't finish by geometry homework?"

"No, but we should talk about that. Come on, get in."

She hesitated for a minute, but eventually circled the car and slid into the passenger's seat, closing her door with a thud.

Once she was secure in her seat, her fingers began hovering daintily over the switches that activated the sirens. She didn't dare touch, though. "You know, this is the first time I've been inside a police car since..." She swallowed. Since the police picked her up from school, the day her mother died.

"And let's hope it's the last," Tony finished.

"Is everything alright, Tony?" There was real fear present in her all of a sudden. If something were to happen to Ziva...

"Listen: Ziva's doing a . . . well, a favour for me. She thinks it'd be safest if you hang around the station for a few hours till she's done. That way you won't be alone." He tried to explain it in the least threatening way possible. Like her sister _wasn't _being sent on a dangerous mission.

"Will you be there?" she asked calmly, like being dragged to a police station after school in the middle of the week was a totally normal thing.

"Not exactly – see, Ziva's really only _helping_ me, so I've gotta be there with her."

Tali frowned. "What exactly are you doing?"

Tony hesitated, not certain he should reveal anything. He didn't want the pressure of a little girl's worrying added to the stress of the operation, for his own sake and for Ziva's . But he couldn't ignore her question in silence forever, either. "Maybe you should ask her," was the answer he settled on, though he did not particularly like it.

"Is it dangerous?"

"It's my job to make sure it's not," he said. It was the truth, really. Just in a kind of twisted way. Yes, it _was _his job to keep Ziva safe, though if they were talking about his job as a police officer then he would be saying the same about every citizen of Baltimore. If, in fact, he meant his job as her boyfriend, then yes, it was very much his job. Though he had no doubt in his mind that she could hold her own just fine, ninety nine per cent of the time.

"And you're good at your job," Tali deduced.

"What makes you think that?" he questioned.

"I'm not sure – I mean, you always seem to be at _work._ That's gotta count for something."

Tony laughed. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Tali fell silent for a moment, staring down at her hands, fingers locked and resting in her lap. "She will be okay, though, won't she?"

"You know me, Tali," he replied. "And you know that I wouldn't do any less that my absolute best to keep Ziva – keep _both _of you – safe."

That seemed to satisfy her, though she said nothing more for the rest of the ride.

...

"I'm Detective Price." Danny held out his hand to Tali, who shook it somewhat hesitantly. "But you can call me Danny."

"I give you permission to spit ball him if he misbehaves," Tony advised the young girl with a firm gesture. Tali nodded seriously before kicking her legs and spinning around a few more times in Tony's office chair.

"Detective Price, why aren't you going with Tony and Ziva?" Tali asked.

"Well," Danny said, puffing out his cheeks in thought. He noted a rather stern look from Tony and understood it meant keep things quiet. "I guess they didn't need my help." That seemed to be the answer she was looking for, because she nodded. She probably assumed that two people's work was perfectly safe. "But they're sending McGee along."

Hearing his name from across the room, McGee looked up from the earpiece in his hand that he was currently calibrating and waved to Tali. She waved back.

"Is Ziva ready yet?" McGee asked impatiently.

"Where _is _my sister?" Tali asked, realising she had not been anywhere to be seen since she had arrived.

"She's coming, I think," Tony said. "Danny, why don't you take Tali on a tour? Show her the cell we use for overnighters." Again, Tony sent him a firm look which, thankfully, the other man understood, and quickly ushered Tali out of there. Just in time, too, because Ziva, fully dressed for the operation, exited the bathrooms and began walking in his direction.

She had on a tiny black dress that showed off her long, caramel legs and stilettos that would be crippling to any other woman. The dress had thin straps that clung to her shoulders and its fabric was almost skin-tight. Her hair was free and curly, and her eyelids were covered with a smoky shadow. Minus the skimpy excuse for a police officer's uniform, she was the spitting image of the girl she had been the first time he saw her. It was like déjà vu.

A whistle sounded from one of the nearby clusters of desks, and one of the men who had made the noise stood up as she passed. She proudly ignored them and kept a straight calm, expression.

"Watch it, Phil," Tony yelled in a threatening tone. "I'm the one with the gun, remember?"

Phil simply sneered in reply and blatantly stared at Ziva's ass as she walked past him.

Tony's words were certainly friendlier than his thoughts. He wanted to go over there and slam his head against a table. This guy was a perpetual scumbag, unfortunately for everybody else who had to work with him.

"Leave it, Tony," she whispered to him, once she was close enough. "Some men are just . . ." She did not seem to have a word.

"Assholes?" Tony suggested.

"I was going to say something a little more elegant but that fits the card just fine."

"Bill. Fits the bill."

"Whatever. I am used to it." She sent him a smile. "Besides, maybe the ogling will help me get into 'character'."

Tony led her over to McGee's desk, where he handed Tony an earpiece and Ziva a broach inside which was a video camera, the footage from which to be sent to the surveillance van, hopefully containing the information they were after.

"Kinda strange, huh?" he said. "I mean, you've come full circle. And it's funny: that night I first met you, you were dressed as a police officer – a _very _hot one might I add." She laughed at him. He loved her laugh. It was the one thing that never failed to reassure him when he needed it. "And now you're fighting for the right side of the law. This would make –"

"A great movie," she finished with an affectionate smile. "We should . . . we should get going."

"You ready?"

"As ready as I am ever going to be."

He could not help thinking, as they walked out, that she was so very brave.

**A/N: Don't forget to review! Not all that many chapters left to go!**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Hi, guys! So, if any of you have been following me on tumblr (romantically-dysfunctional), you would have possibly seen the regular updates on my rather hectic personal life, so if you were wondering, that is the reason why I haven't been updating. Apologies. **

**Also, by my plan, this and the epilogue will be the last of this story. (Not that I am ruling out the occasional one-shot in the Hips-verse that I have grown rather fond of, if I do say so myself). **

Chapter 34—

The drive to where they had found Scorpion to be 'working' now was not very long from the station, but it seemed to stretch on and on. The atmosphere in the van was static and thick and Ziva's calm aura had dissolved into one of stress and apprehension. Her shoulders were tensed and her jaw was tight, and she had not looked over at him from the passenger's seat in twenty minutes, let alone spoken. Her fingers were locked in her lap, her grip tensing and releasing rhythmically.

The afternoon sun had fallen in the sky, peeking out just over the horizon. A dusky haze filled the Baltimore streets. Tony's white-knuckled fingers gripped the wheel with growing anxiety, and, as much as he respected his friend and colleague, he wished McGee could cover his ears or tuck-and-roll out of the van so that he could talk her down.

She was scared suddenly, and rightly so. This was the man who had overpowered her and mistreated her and sold her off like an inanimate product for _years, _and she had never, ever been able to do anything about it. A wave of guilt hit Tony when he realised that this feeling, this emotion that had seemingly overcome her, was the reason that she had said no in the first place.

Ziva had always been able to separate emotion from professionalism – she had never had any other choice. How else could she have been a sister to Tali and a dancer to hundreds of anonymous faces out there? How else could she get by, not letting it bother her? But when personal and professional – or whatever this mission could be labelled as – become indecipherably blurred, she struggled to make a cut between the two. There was no middle ground here. There was no way to separate herself appropriately from the situation.

But amongst this suffocation and stress, for the first time, she felt a new understanding of what Tony did for his living, and of just how dedicated he really was. Because, as much as he was doing this to get her once-tormentor off the streets and in his rightful place behind iron bars, he had gone against the words of others, of superiors, to do his duty as a protector of the public. He was not going to let this man slide on a technicality when there was something he could do about it. Even when that something was dangerous and troublesome.

She still had not moved an inch when Tony gently hit the brakes and they parked around the corner from the place that was within fifteen feet of where they had located Scorpion's cell phone. The sky outside had turned grey in the dusk and the street lamps outside had lit up golden. It was just dark enough, though, that he could see her face in the reflection of the windshield.

"Ready to go?" McGee asked, surprisingly tactile. He stuck his head through the two front seats and looked between his co-workers, giving them each individually an ample amount of time to answer, despite Tony really only having any say in it, and he was far too focused on Ziva anyway.

"McGee," Tony replied, his voice low and gravelly. He did not take his eyes from Ziva's reflection, and he saw her eyes move in the glass. "Are the earpieces ready?"

"Yeah," the younger man answered, holding them up as proof, dangling in front of him on his finger. "Whenever you are."

"Okay." He was still staring straight ahead. So was Ziva. He did not seem sure of what to do next for her, so slid out of the car, but before he did, he squeezed her wrist, gesturing for her to come along.

Ziva circled the van, meeting Tony just outside the van's back doors. Her dress was short and tight and, well, it could barely excuse itself for a piece of clothing. The wind was picking up and suddenly her curls – the fake, well-maintained ones that he could not even pretend that he liked more than her natural ones – were blowing wildly about, falling over her shoulders and brushing the sides of her face.

"You're not alright," he said. And no, he couldn't separate his love for her from his determination for this mission. The two were already too intertwined.

"I am fine," she protested, but her lie was obvious. She stared at the shadowed concrete beneath their feet, not able to look him in the eye.

Tony gripped her forearms momentarily and, with his right arm, lifted her chin so she would look in his eyes. "Hey," he whispered. "It's not too late to back out."

Her expression hardened and she took a step back from him. "I never _wanted _to do this, Tony," she reminded him. "I did it for you."

"Come on, Ziva, we both know there was at least a little part of you that did this to get that asshole off the streets."

"My past with Scorpion was _not _the reason I agreed to do this!" She seemed to step further away with every word.

"No, but it was an incentive." To that, she did not argue. "Look, it's not important. If I was wrong to string you into this the way I did, then you can tell me. And . . . and this can be over. And maybe we'll never get him behind bars, but maybe that's okay." He looked crestfallen, though, and she knew that that would never be okay. His desire to capture this man came from what she believed to be three places: the first, his determination to never let a criminal go, the second, his relentless vendetta for the guy who beat him up one time, and the third, and most important, was her. Ziva believed that a part of Tony would never feel safe if he was still out there.

Scorpion had not been a free man for long, and he believed it would not be much longer until he started going after those who caused his prolonged misery – though Tony believed that it wasn't nearly prolonged enough. He had tried to protect Ziva and somehow had roped her into doing the protecting.

"You are right – this is all for the better," she admitted, her head down once again. "But I am scared, Tony. This man is not a good person. And I thought that I would never have to see him again and I was wrong. Do you know what that is like?"

"I don't, and I'm sorry that I don't, because if I did, I'd . . ." He had no way to finish that sentence. Yes, he was putting her through something that she would hate and it had been entirely his idea. He had somehow managed to see past the implications of his plan whilst it was forming so perfectly in his head.

"I can do this," she assured him. "I mean, think of Tali. He saw her, he could hurt her, too. I have to keep my family safe."

"I have to keep mine safe, too." He reached for her hand and held it to his chest. She could feel his heart beating through his shirt and jacket.

A sad smile crossed her face, but she grasped him tightly and turned her expression to serious. "Come on, we have a job to do, right?"

That did make him smile, and he let himself be led by her back to the door of the van, where McGee was patiently waiting with an earwig for Ziva and a headset for Tony.

"Good to go?" McGee confirmed. Tony went to speak, but in his place, Ziva gave a firm nod. She puffed up her chest, turned on her heel, and headed towards a small, run-down building tucked away in a corner. She seemed to know it – Scorpion had stationed himself here before. "You sure she's gonna be alright?" McGee asked Tony.

"She's a lot stronger than people assume, McGee," he replied, feeling the butterflies in his stomach continue to flap about wildly, but with a new sense of confidence. She could do this. She had to.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35 –

Ziva's pulse started beating louder and louder, and the hand by her side, unoccupied, clenched. Her fingers curled individually inward and tugged in apprehension at what little fabric of the near skin tight dress she could actually pull away from her body.

The walk around the corner and through the little alleyway seemed longer than it normally did. But it had been a long time – or, at least, it felt like it was a long time – since she had visited this building, or even this part of town.

The back room of a shabby little building that, honestly, Ziva did not know what it exhibited, was home to Scorpion for his work hours (and probably many of his other, unrelated hours, too. His income, while often made in small bills, was not in large sums. A fifty here or there was a blessing that he had often made sure not to take advantage of). It was tucked away and out of plain sight, and the path to it was certainly a path less travelled if she had ever seen one. The pavement beneath her feet was dark and dirty, there were stains on the concrete that she could not even guess the origin of, and occasionally she came across balled up and dried gum. They were in the exact same places that she remembered them to be, which said all there was to be said about maintenance.

Not very travelled though it may have been, she knew this path well. After all, she would walk down it to see him almost every night to see him either before or after she had done her work.

She remembered the first time she'd walked down it. It had not been unlike tonight. Mild in temperature, cloudy, and at dusk as the last hints of sun lingered over the horizon.

But tonight would be different.

Ziva reached for the rusted doorknob at the end of the alleyway, which had an old and faded sign nailed to it (which had also rusted). She rattled the knob but it did not budge.

"Locked," she muttered, knowing that Tony would hear her through the camera and microphone disguised as a broach that Baltimore PD had on loan from the Major Crime Response Team over at NCIS, the agency whom they were apparently rather chummy with.

"Dammit," Tony murmured in reply. "What do we –" He stopped asking his partner that question when he saw, through the camera, Ziva's hand, armed with a hairpin, fiddling a little _too _expertly with the lock. Ten seconds or so later, it swung open. He smiled, and was sure at that moment she wore a smug expression on her face. "I'm not sure if I want to know when or where you learned to do that."

Ziva placed her open palm on the door and pushed it further open. She was met with a familiar hallway, the decor of which was not really much better than outside. The first door on the left was the entryway to her destination. With careful footsteps, she placed her ear to the door. She was sure that she heard the clicking of keys but she could not be so sure over the rather loud metal music that was blaring from speakers that sounded like they were too small to handle the sound.

Three knocks later, the music stopped. "Yeah?" he called out, rather unceremoniously.

She took a breath and tried to remember how she used to be before everything changed. Before McGee's bachelor party and before Tony. The most important thing, she had decided, had been to please him. If he was happy, the cheques, though small, continued to float her way. That was the point of it all, really.

"Hello, Scorpion," she said softly, batting her lashes and stepping through the door.

The man almost fell out of his chair as he leapt up in surprise. The laptop in the centre of his desk and the document he had been creating were pushed from the forefront of his mind almost immediately at the sight of her.

"What are _you_ doing here? Look, before you bring your boy in here to bust me, you've got nothing on me. I'm clean."

His voice was shaking, and so were his hands. Ziva smiled at the thought of a vulnerable, nervous Scorpion at her disposal, but she remembered that _she_ was going to have to be the putty in _his_ hands, and not the other way around. Her expression transformed to something unbelievably innocent.

"Oh, him? He's gone. He's been gone for a long time," she lied. "I'm alone."

"Then what do you want? I don't owe you any cheques if that's why you came here."

"No – that's not why I am here."

Scorpion was being hostile – which was understandable, to a point. She tilted her head upward and tried to remain solid regardless of what he said.

"Then _what_?" the scruffy-looking man hissed.

"I want back," she answered. "Back into all of this." She was sure she sounded certain, and to make a point she walked over to him and placed her fist on the desk, on the only spare bit of space she could find.

His eyes widened in shock, and he leaned towards her. He realised that he had acquired the upper hand in this conversation – he had the leverage. He was in control, and that was just how he liked it.

She was almost surprised at how he took her bait so easily. Then again, she had been one of his best dancers, and more dancers meant more money, and he would do whatever he could for that.

"Well, well, well," he started, crossing his arms. Ziva fought the urge to scoff at his sudden smugness, and furthermore, to slap him across the face. _Hard_. "You know it's not gonna be easy, right?"

"I know," she admitted, playing along. "I'll do whatever it takes. Those cops . . . they bored me out of my mind. It was all I could do not to crawl right back here and _beg_ for your forgiveness."

Tony, on the other end of the line, coughed to suppress what he was sure was a gag.

"After all, nobody knows me like you do." She circled the desk to his side and pushed back his laptop so she could lean on the edge.

"You'll have to make it up to me," he baited. "Custody's not a fun place to be for somebody like me, so . . ." he trailed his hand up Ziva's mostly uncovered thigh, "accustomed to female affections."

His touch made Ziva want to feel sick but her face remained that of a playful young girl. "Just imagine if they had chosen a different verdict."

"You wouldn't have liked that, would you, sweetlips?" His voice was low now, and he took a step closer to her, so that his face was nearly touching hers, and his foul breath blew right onto Ziva's face.

"No," she whispered back, only whispering because her voice would not have been steady. She swallowed hard and tried to gather herself. "How did you get out of all of it?"

"It's a good story – maybe one day I'll tell it to you."

"How about today?" she pushed, tugging at the lapels of his dirty jacket. "I like a man who was rebellious."

In the van, McGee audibly spluttered at that, and Tony was caught totally by surprise. He'd been far too invested in what little he could see through the tiny camera, and the noises and dialogue he was hearing.

"What's so funny, McGee?" he snarled.

"Rebellious? Tony, she's dating _you_."

"So?"

"You're a cop – isn't that kind of the opposite of rebellious?"

At least the kid had been able to remind him that this was actually an act. She was remarkably good at it, too.

"Rebellious, huh?" Scorpion asked.

"Oh, yes," she insisted.

What followed was a surprisingly detailed description of some of his more illicit doings in his life, accompanied by over the top gasps from Ziva. At one point or another, his calloused fingers had slipped underneath her dress and his lips were pressed to her neck. Her heeled shoe had been lifted to rest on the edge of the desk, and while breathing hard as a motivator for him, she kicked the top drawer open, spotting what she had suspected to be in there: one awfully clichéd pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs. Excellent.

She made one final check with a _real, _smug smile across her face. "Did you get all that?" she whispered, talking to Tony through the mic.

"Oh yeah," Tony replied smugly. "You bet. Good job, baby."

At the sound of her voice, and having not heard what she said, Scorpion lifted his head. "Scorpion, you're under arrest."

She held up the handcuffs and pushed him away with a fierce shove. He landed in his chair and, before he could respond, she cuffed his wrists.

"Kinky, huh?" he said with an indulgent smile.

Ziva pulled the ear piece out of her ear and placed it in his. "Nope," she told him, looking sufficiently pleased with herself.

"This is Detective Anthony DiNozzo from the Baltimore Police Department. We have you on tape confessing your crimes to Miss David. You're under arrest."

Scorpion panicked, and leaped from his chair, violently struggling to get past Ziva. He swung for her face and she blocked it, but his second swing to the gut knocked her over and he darted past. She got to her feet almost instantly, but not without giving him a head start.

He came into the alleyway with Ziva right behind him, and night had enveloped the city. A flickering lamp and the light behind him was enough to clear his vision for the next five feet or so, and at the end of the alleyway, he spotted two men in suits with SIGs held high and right for his head (Tim's did not belong to him, of course, but he was trained and had been permitted one for self-defence on this mission).

"Do you really wanna run, Stephen?" Tony asked smugly, knowing that the man despised the use of his birth name. Oh, this was revenge of the sweetest kind.

Scorpion let out a cry, and fell to his knees, where Tony, swooping in, snapped the plastic cuffs with his fingers and replaced them with real ones. Then, he pulled out his cell phone and delivered short phrases into the speaker. "Price! Come get him. The alleyway. Yeah. See you soon."

Literally thirty seconds later, a Baltimore PD issue car pulled up on the side of the road, and two detectives got out and apprehended Scorpion. One of them was Danny, and the other was one of the other detectives who had been on Scorpion's original case.

Politely, though, Scorpion ignored the popular film habit of swearing revenge on all those present at his arrest. He simply got in the car and let the detectives drive him away. He was finally and truly done.

"Tony," Ziva sighed with relief, once they had gone. He raced over from the other side of the alley and hugged her tight. "It's over, right?"

One of his hands came up and rested between her shoulder blades. "Yeah. Of course. I promise I'll never make you do that again."

"It's okay," she replied, her voice muffled by his clothing. "I'm okay." And she buried her face in his shoulder.

McGee, who was still holding his gun, shifted awkwardly on the other side of the alley. "Uh . . . I'll just . . . bring the van around."

Tony laughed. Poor kid. This was too much drama for an IT gremlin.

"You did good," he assured her. "You'd make a pretty good cop."

"I think that tonight was enough law enforcement action for a lifetime," she replied, pulling away from him slightly, with a smile.

...

The silver-haired man, Agent Gibbs, was waiting with Danny, Tali and Major Raimey when they got back to the office.

"Duty calls," Tony said apologetically to Ziva when they walked in, hand in hand, and saw him. Tony parted from her and approached the federal agent. "Is there a lead I need to know about?" He was referring, of course, to their conjoined case, which had stretched on for some weeks.

"Nope. Case is closed. Your last lead took my team through to the end and we got our guy," Gibbs explained with a nod. He was sipping a coffee.

"So I was right about the –" he began excitedly, stopping when Gibbs shoved a manila file against his chest.

"You can read all about it."

Tony frowned, turning the rather thick case file over in his hands. "You came all this way to tell me I was right?"

Gibbs smirked. He was intuitive. The older man lifted his hand and gestured towards the doors with one finger. He wanted to speak in private.

...

"What's going on, Gibbs?" Tony asked, wondering what was so important (or drastic) that he drove all the way out here when he probably had more important things to do.

"The whole detective thing. How long have you been at it?" Gibbs asked, getting straight to the point, whatever _that _was.

"About five years, why?"

"Time for a change?"

"What?"

"I want you to come work for me. In D.C. There's a vacancy on my team and I want you to fill it."

Tony's eyes widened in utter surprise. "You want me to be a _fed_? At NCIS?"

Gibbs shrugged, as if the offer itself was not surprising in the least.

He was still struggling to form coherent sentences. "But I . . . why me? I'm just a plain ol' homicide detective."

"You're smart. You're observant. You're good at talking to people. You're good. _Too _good to be 'just a plain ol' homicide detective' if you ask me."

"Do I even have the credentials to work at NCIS?"

"Spoken to Director Morrow, he's read your file and he's approved you. The position's yours. If you want it, that is."

He was totally speechless. A big time job as a federal agent in the big city? It sounded exciting and he could only imagine the adventures he'd have, the new contacts he'd gain. Not to mention the pay raise.

His bubble, which had been growing increasingly lovely, was quickly burst by Gibbs. Or reality. He was not sure which.

"That girl in there – she yours?"

Tony's shoulders fell in dismay. "In a matter of speaking, yeah."

"You should talk to her."

"What do you want me to say, exactly?"

He shrugged again, and Tony couldn't help but be annoyed. Gibbs simply turned and began to walk away. "I'm here till tomorrow," he called over his shoulder.

"Special Agent DiNozzo," he tested out.

...

He bought her takeout on the way to her apartment. A hungry Ziva was usually not an agreeable Ziva.

He did not see her at first – he saw Tali, though, asleep on the sofa. He smiled at her affectionately.

"Ziva?" he called softly, not wanting to wake her up. Eventually, the woman in question surfaced from her bedroom.

"You bought food? Excellent, I am _starving._" She walked over to him in her deep purple robe. Her hair was wet and wrapped up in a towel, all her makeup was gone and she was removing the last bit of evidence from that night – one of her big hoop earrings. The clock on the microwave caught her eye as she went to heat it up. It was nearly midnight.

"What are you doing here so late? Aren't you tired? Not that I mind – you can stay if you like."

"Thanks, Ziva, but I kinda needed to talk to you about something."

"I am all ears." She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the food spin in the microwave.

"You saw Agent Gibbs at the office earlier?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Oh yes, what was it he wanted to speak with you about?" she seemed curious, but not scared, which didn't seem right, or maybe that was just him.

"He . . . well, he offered me a job."

She turned to face him properly. "A job? Doing what?"

"NCIS Special Agent as part of their Major Crime Response Team. In Washington D.C."

"D.C.? That would be a . . . _long _commute."

"Well, I was thinking of moving."

"You're taking it?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

"How could I not? This is the chance of a lifetime, Ziva. You know how often feds offer detectives places on their major teams? Not very. He said I was good. I could make something of yourself."

"You already have," she said, almost pleadingly. She walked over to him and gripped his hands in her own.

"Ziva, please. I have to do this," he insisted.

There were tears in her eyes now. "So this is goodbye?"

He frowned, genuinely puzzled. "What? No! Of course not! You and Tali can come with me!"

"What?"

"Come with me," he repeated, softer, and closer to her lips. "We'll get a place."

"Tony, be serious."

"I've never been more serious."

"But Tali's school –"

"She doesn't like it there anyway."

"My job!" she tried.

"We'll find you another one."

"But we can't afford it."

"Did I mention the huge pay rise?"

Ziva swallowed, looking up at him, at those emerald eyes that had melted her heart so many times. "Are we really doing this?"

"I think we are." He rested his forehead against his. "I love you, okay?"

A grin spread across her face and her hands cupped his cheeks gently. "I love you too, _Special Agent_."

It was a fresh start for all of them. And if life could offer anything of value to them now, it was just that. A new life with old loves and new ones alike. A world where she would never have to worry about her. A world where they would all be safe. A world where they would share a whole house instead of a drawer and occasionally a sofa or a bed.

And it was a world where she would never have to dance again (except as a treat for him, of course).

**A/N: So, wow! We've reached the end of the last chapter. There will be an epilogue, but seriously, thank you so much, all of you for taking the time to read this story. It's become something I never could have imagined and become such an amazing part of my day. I have to say, I'm really going to miss stripper!Ziva and the relationship between her, Tony and Tali. I sometimes wonder if I will ever venture back into the Hips-verse, if only for a one-shot or two, and I would say that it's a distinct possibilities. Thank you all for your alerts, favourites and feedback. It's been one hell of a ride. See you next time! **


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